11.10.2003 || 01h41


So, works goes on on my personal website. I've selected and optimised the poems (most of which are there in the version that's up now), and the photography section, but I just don't know about the stories. does anyone even read something on-line that's more than 20 words?

I dunno...

In writing-related news, someone I used to see sometimes at CoffeeHellCo came in for a latté a couple of nights ago. She hadn't been in for a long-arsed time, so I almost didn't recognise her. Anyway, she works in TV, and she asked if I'd be interested in working on a project. I don't know anything else about it, and she hasn't e-mailed me about it yet, but there it is. I'd totally forgotten about it until a second and a half ago.

To-night, Marv, Mystie, the Slut, Sister and I went to a hole to see a live bluegrass open stage. Lots of wicked players and nice-as-hell instruments. I don't like bluegrass enough to listen to a CD, but I love seeing anything live that the people actually *like* playing.

Anyway, we didn't stay for too long because there were two ex-smokers in the group, as well as me the asthmatic gimp. Oh, and what I thought was Mystie being asleep was actually her with a pounding head, so I guess it's good that we left at a reasonable hour. We were home by about midnight and a half. When we got in, I made her a cuppa tay and gave her a couple o'Ibuprofens to help ease the ache.

Though I don't know why she was in such bad shape. She can go out drinking with her philo-types and sit at a table full of smokers for longer than that, it seems. Unless I'm mistaking her meaning when she says she got home 'pretty late.'

Heh, I'd go ask her, but I think she's trying to sleep off the headache...

||Gods save the Queen,

back || forth

older shite

One last little note... - 09.21.2006

de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006

Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006

More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006

Scary stuff - 05.25.2006

Oh yeah, the page and everything
on it is ©2000 - 2005 to me, alright ?
don't copy without asking.

Original ©reation 2005