Aftermath

The only problem with three hours of martial arts and then two hours of doing the chicken dance in a windy car park in Kowloon is that if you haven't accustomed your body to it via regular training, the day after can be punishing. The chicken dancing, that is.

I spent most of today struggling to walk around the office, my fried quadriceps making it quite clear to me that I had done them wrong and they were going to shoot me down, shoot shoot me down. Where am I going with this? Probably going down south, caught my legs messing round with another man...

Oops, drifting off there into a haze of Jimi Hendrix styled ramblings. Told you I was tired. If I start trying to play the Star Spangled Banner on this laptop using only my teeth, you can't say you hadn't been warned.

I used to know what 'spangled' meant, and 'fangled' too, as in 'new-fangled'. If you're not impressed by that, let me point out that I know a usage for the word 'fangled' that does not involve the word 'new' just before it.

Ha. Told you I was a writer...

... Which is the other reason I'm feeling exhausted at the moment: I went for my weekly foot massage, but with laptop in tow, and between that and hammering on the Blackberry on my commutes today, I've written 3,236 words today, and I still haven't got to the exciting bits from last year's draft. Oooh, it's going to be good when it comes. Or it's going to be appalling and everyone will hate me for it. Have a look here, if you dare! I've just started writing from the point of view of one of the more unpleasant characters (not necessarily evil, or more banal than malicious) so it will be interesting to see how long he survives before I decide I can't stand him. Or if I decide it will be more interesting to have a character the audience can't stand, who keeps wandering through the novel getting on people's nerves. Hmm. And hmm again.

Anyway, I'm shattered and must sleep. For every day that there is the high of wearing knee-length leather shorts, there is the following day and the trough of having to take them off, yet not being able to remove that special leathery odour. Oh well. Bleach tomorrow if I still smell.