First. Ever. Shhh.

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On a serious note, I’m a fan of the crust. The heel. Start and end parts of the loaf of bread. Whichever name you like to call a rose. Some people aren’t. I am. Especially when it’s toasted. So when I just found out all I had was only one crust left, I didn’t really mind. At all, at all. In fact, couldn’t wait. Horsed it into the toaster. Checked the fridge. What I could put on it. Fridge. Bare. Once. More. Few tomatoes. Toast. Burning. Burnt. Didn’t matter. Burnt crust of toast. Sliced baby tomatoes. Washed down with a glass of gin. Could’ve been a burnt sock. Quite the feast! In fact. A celebratory feast. Why so? Drummer boy, spit it out… I finally finished a full draft of my book. First draft. Rough work draft. Rambling draft. Boney draft. Skeleton draft. According to Hemingway. The s**t one. Continue Reading »

Enough Talk, More Music!!!

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Rain is pouring down in Yelle. Bucketing men. Cats. Dogs. And frogs. People don’t know what to do. Brutal weather. As in bruuutal! As in just like most days in Ireland. People are on the verge of going into meltdown if it continues. Running off to buy candles and tinned food. Just in case. Thankfully, it makes bob all difference when you live in a cave. Final hurdle of the first draft is in sight. C’mon the book of gibber, giddy up! Saying that, the gibber has been dominating the blogaruu recently. Music needs to burst through. Building up. Time for it to dance on. Anyways, enough talk, more music! Continue Reading »

In Reality, What Is Toast?

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Being honest, I could be anywhere in the world at the moment. Cave. Gym. Cave. Sleep. Cave. Gym. And so on. Until the end of this week, that is the way it shall be. First deadline due. Time. Ticking. Pressure. Burning. And. All. That. Anyways, I’ve kind of noticed that it is easy to lose grip on what’s going on in the real world. Big time losing all notion. Waking up to find out I’ve no clean socks. Jocks. Plenty of t-shirts though. Well done me. Regimented eating disappearing. Running out of food. No milk in my fridge. Forgetting about the six meals. Making myself disappear. Continue Reading »

Crazy In Logic

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If you’re going to be crazy,

you have to get paid for it

or else you’re going to be locked up. 

A mighty quote I happened to read yesterday. Hunter S. Good logic behind his madness. Lately, the more I speak to people that work normal hours, the more I get the impression they think I’m losing my logic. Going to bed when it’s bright. Getting up when it’s dark. Curtains only needing to be opened for about a ten minute period. That’s crazy. Would you not try to sort it out? Why don’t you change your routine?! Makes far more sense! I can see their logic. Of how it looks illogical. However, there is logic behind the madness. Which my buddy verbalised today to me. Day. Time. People. Awake. Night. Time. People. Asleep. Less distractions. More time to write. See. Logic. Dumb by day. Alive at night. Continue Reading »

Come On Donkey!

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You know what you can’t beat? A donkey kick in the head. Particularly at 5 in the morning. Figuratively. Obviously. Kicking through a few barriers. Ploughing you on. When least expected. Wee hours of this morning. Sitting. Thinking. Still so much to do. Add layers. Do this. Do that. So much. To do. Especially the more I think about it. Keep thinking. Of how much there is to do. Nice cloud of frustration forming. Go on, wrap it around your brain. That’s the answer. That’ll get things done. Think. Think. Think. Why is it not getting done? Continue Reading »

Drunk. Sober. Write? Wrong.

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Started at five. Moved onto six. Broke through the seven. Now dancing past eight. My night owl is soaring at the moment. Sleeping times are on their head. Night is now day. At least the book is being churned out. Churn on. Cave-like lifestyle. Living in and running around my head. Which I’ve realised has resulted in me sporadically zipping between two different kind of moods. Frustrated. Pumped. At times annoyed. Other times delighted. Over and over. Finally the penny dropped. Depending on the event or story or whatever I’m re-writing about, that emotion builds up and kicks in, inside my head. Which makes writing any good story a great laugh to do. And makes me highly frustrated after writing a frustrating story. Strangely, I am now living vicariously, through, my, self? Continue Reading »