A Good Day, Part I

After an infuriating blackout last night, I took to bed a bit early. After, miraculously, the electricity came back on, I went downtown to buy a Red Bull and, there is no way to put a fine edge on this, porn.

Went back home, started writing, and decided to take a break to watch (for the dozenth time) The Thomas Crown Affair, the remake starring Pierce Brosnan and featuring Raquel Welch - who starred in the original with Steve McQueen. My favourite line in the movie and my new fucking credo, "A woman could trust me....if her interests didn't run too contrary to my own."

So maybe I'm a bit jaded but this isn't about that. This is about my writing. After watching the movie and (way too much information warning) making use of my purple-headed yogurt slinger, I settled down to write. When I finally took a break it was because, in between tracks on my "Love Songs" playlist, I heard one my phones ringing. Missed it but called back Bakannal, the skunt, who was up after midnight not writing but downloading porn.

After agonising over several stories, trying to 'get' Atonement which I began watching halfway through on CNS 6, and replaying this real hot scene of Black Sistas, White Guy Creampie Fiesta 6 or some shit (the Trouser Cyclops cries again), I finally decided to take a nap at five. Not a very productive night in terms of typed work but beautiful in terms of conceptualisation.

I leave my house at around 6.55 for a 7 o'clock meeting and then it's to Oasis for breakfast and to settle in. After spending too long on Facebook, I decide to go the National Library and it was great. In case none of you people were aware of this, I am a fucking nerd...a geek. I may appear a cool, suave, hip, sophisticated Lothario on the outside but I am goddamn Urkel on the inside.

I float whenever I enter the National Library with all its oodles and oodles of books, oh my! My first quest was doubly pleasing - a search for an article in a back issue of Chronicle, and one that I had written. Browsing through the old papers, one of the first things to catchy my eye was this cleverly titled article called , "Adieu, Foolhardy". Why it was clever and all that skunt I don't have the time to explain, and I was thinking who is this fucking genius who was writing this shit in the Chronicle while I was in Tortola, until of course I read the byline which read "Ruel Johnson"...which made sense.