I, naturally, spent the weekend recovering from the extraordinary delights of, basically, flicking the dust-bunnies out from the hindermost parts of my brain and leaving them on display all over the internets. Hello! What did you all do?
But I had a think, while lolling in an undignified manner and/ or trying to get my Sims to snog each other on the laptop [And getting Sims was possibly the most cretinously unproductive act of your life, young Reed - Ed]. And I thought thusly:
- I must really do something about the blogroll. The blogroll is starting to smell. I must add all the new interesting people and places to it, and I must rearrange it into less amazingly pretentious categories.
- I must actually talk to people, because there is actually a line between ’shy’ and ‘antisocial’ and personally I seem to have wondered so far over it I’ve ended up in ‘has issues’.
- I’d like to write more fiction. No, let me rephrase that. I bloody well must write more fiction. I have a very untidy heap of paper scraps, torn from note-books during meetings, like as not, that are all over ideas for short stories. Now, I had never really written much in the way of short stories before, so this is either a New Development or, more likely, the result of having a seriously battered attention-span, especially when I’m supposed to be writing policy documents with it. Do you care? Is this going to fizzle embarrassingly after one go? [Yes].
- And I need to read more Proper Books. I mean, really, current haul seems involve a great deal of detective fiction I am not quite getting on with, and not nearly enough, say, Jorge Luis Borges, who, after all, damn it, was a Librarian.
Aha! Directions! I’d rather been missing some of those. How nice to find a few under the dust-bunnies. God bless NaBloPoMo, and all who sailed in her.
