a) I believe in rabbits, but I dont believe in rats. I have seen lots of rabbits, but have never, ever seen a rat. Though I have read a lot about the existence of rats, and know that other people believe in the concrete existence of rats, and I am fully supportive of their right to believe in the existence of rats, but I do not believe in rats. I do believe in rabbits, though.
That is all. I learnt today of two continents that I might (might) be visiting in the next four months. More details to, of course, follow. But in the meantime ‹jumps around the living room› just WOO.
‹jumps around the living room›
d) Sometimes one may feel tempted to mock, or yearn for, the success of others. The most of the time, its better to look at the things you have, and smile, and say Yes. Fuck ME, yes, this is my life, and its ok! WOO!
4) I was deeply troubled on the train this morning by Michael Jackson. The disposal of two classic Motown albums in the shape of Off The Wall and Thriller into the communal belovedandmy iPod bank seemed like a good idea, especially as they cost six pounds all in, I discovered, this morning, that they were a passage to bad behavious on crowded train carriages.
NOT ONLY does hearing the song Thriller make me do a little tiny version of the Thriller dance in my seat (hands in claw shape, tiny left, tiny right, tiny left, UP!) but I then most like become convinced that the song Beat It contains the phrase show them hot fucking, a notion that not EIGHT LISTENS can dispel.
Does it really contain that phrase? Blimey. I dont remember that from the video.
n) Why, after five weeks of attending the lovely-stupid gym four times a week, might one be HEAVIER than when started, perhaps, hypothetically? Does this prove once and for all that TV + Crumble and Ice Cream is a much better lifestyle plan than and hour on a crosstrainer? Not that I could do an hour on the crosstrainer if I tried?
6) I was talking to a subeditor about something Id written that she was working on, today. Yeah, no, it was fine, I didnt cut much she said, which was fine, Id filed it way over wordcount and warned them that theyd have to cut it, so I was expecting it. I had to split up a fair number of your sentences, mind She said.
What?! So I happen to think – call me wrong, call me revolutionary, call me an artist – I happen to think that maybe its ok, maybe its not such a bad thing if a sentence (like a thought, or a piece of conversation) is over two hundred words long and – well, perhaps not two hundred, but you get the idea – has an inordinate number of sub-clauses, inordinate being a comparitive term, obviously, because its not a matter of hard to read, is
w) For any of the vocal No, weve NEVER seen the West Wing readers who may have noticed that I do love it, have seen it, and am willing to talk about it at extreme length (thats overal length AND individual sentences, lucky you), youll be extremely glad to know that More4 (cable, satellite, freeview, episodes (hopefully) available on tinternet) are starting the whole thing again, from the first episode ever, starting from the first episode of the first series. Watch it. Its smart, witty, clever scriptwriting. I dont give a poop about the politics. Just watch the bloody thing and stop whining. (Cue: Meh, I believe that television is opiate for idiots and dont even own one. Answer: Fuck off).
8) Though there are a bunch of reasons not to be, I am happy.
Are you happy?
I hope you are happy.
g) I also dont believe in badgers.
iii) There is an article what I wrote about Umbria here. I fucking loved the place, as you can tell, by the possibly-a-little-bit-gushing-oh-so-slightly article.
The sentences are a bit long but: wanky professional musing coming up: Im pleased with it, as when Ive been starting out trying to write these things, a little switch flicks on in my head saying and Now you must sound like A Travel Writer, rather than just allowing myself writing like I write, which is what people seem to want to commission me for.
Luckily. Because I dont do anything else very well.
Anyway, this is the first one that Ive felt sounded like me. Which is all, at the end of day, what Im hoping to be employed to do. God that sounds great. Employed to be anna. Lets hope it pays 48 million pounds. No, you cant do it. Sorry.
Wanky semi-professional musing over.
Oh, the pictures of the Umbria trip are here, by the way.
Gosh, my flickr account is seriously underused.
What a good thing Im going on those other exciting trips Im determined to be annoyingly tightlipped about.