A working laptop, a word processing program and some good music, that’s all I need. Right now it’s It’s Gonna Rain! By Bonnie Pink. I don’t quite know what it is about, but I think it’s about breaking up with someone. I did look up a translation (it’s in Japanese) but I don’t really trust them. Transliterations are better because they actually translate symbol-type languages, like Japanese, better than just translating. Tends to be, when you simply translate, you get gibberish. That’s not fun to read. Well, actually, sometimes it is.

You’ve all heard of Engrish, right? For those who haven’t, it’s basically misspoken or incorrectly written English. It can be quite funny. There was a file I pulled from my phone and it was in Chinese, so I slapped it up Google translate, which is dire at the best of times, and it came along with some interesting things, like “Chinese carp duo”, which sounds like a bad movie to me.

I’m not used to this damned keyboard. It makes a horrible sound as I type. I liked the tone of my old one, but my laptop died. The motherboard burnt out and I was really rather gutted. Thankfully, the hard drive survived and I had a spare laptop. That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like the keyboard. I suppose I’ll get used to it, but I know I’ll wind up wanting my old one back.

I love my old laptop. It’s not exactly very small, or slimline, in comparison to today’s laptops, but it does the job and does it well. Or it used to. The keyboard has a missing delete key, it lies about the button placements and sometimes doesn’t work, but it is what I’m used to. I suppose £35 isn’t too much to pay for a new motherboard.

Led Zeppelin now. Really good band, I think. They never held back or tried to be cool, they just were. Still are, individually and together, apart from the drummer obviously because he’s dead.

Anyway, I had this weird dream. I was cycling and my bike broke and someone came along and fuxed it, then decided to fix my other one, which was at home. Strange dream, but not as strange as the other one... Well. I was in a gun shop, buying a handgun with my friend. He paid for his and then when I went to pay, this thug came along with a tiny wee gun and a knife jutting from it, accusing me of wanting to steal it and kill him. A scuffle broke out, I killed him and then paid for my revolver. Walking down the road, I was playing with my gun and then decided to holster it. Then I took it out, moved the revolving bit and told my friend I didn't wanna shoot myself, so I had to take a bullet out and use the empty chamber as the safety because revolvers have no safety. He called me a geek and then we walked down the road to do whatever the fuck we were gonna do. I have no idea what prompted either dream, but they were bloody bonkers.

I guess that’s what I get for being sane. I’ve decided that being insane is too mainstream, so I’m sane. Probably the only person in the world who is sane. The original one-eyed chicklet in the kingdom of the blind, that’s me. Always gotta be a pioneer, moving forward... Like a mouse.

Aw, mice are so cute. I prefer rats though. Rats are really cute and cuddly. I used to keep rats. I used to train them to jump from my hand, to the top of my head and then on to my shoulder. From there, they would just sit and snuggle into me. The conception of rats being filthy, is a mis. They are actually really clean. Even wild ones. Yeah, they carry disease, but not on purpose. We would too, if we lived wild. It’s really just by dint of their living conditions that they are filthy. Don’t give me the plague argument, either, everyone knows that plague was spread by the fleas on rats. I just got the image of a bunch of Mongols hurling plagued corpses. That’s a funny image, I don’t know why. Maybe because of the use of the word “hurled”.

I might just get a bit wordy on y’all. I love words, you see. The words I love the most are the ones you can feel. Like “hurled”. It’s very descriptive. Onomatopoeic, almost. There’s also something else I love, and that’s words that you can taste. Or I can taste. Apparently it’s a form of epilepsy, to be able to taste words, but I only taste them at certain... Moments, shall we say. Anyway, enough about those shenanigans. Words have a power to them. Your will manifests itself in the words you bring to life, so be careful with them.

This is great. I’m writing. I’m not even writing about anything in particular, but I’m just really enjoying getting my thoughts out and onto the page. I do wish I could write by hand, but the fact is, that my hand can’t keep up with my brain. At least when I type, my hands can both keep up. You might have noticed something: I’m writing this as I talk.

So many people try to take on a voice that isn’t their own and try to emulate someone famous, but I just write like me. Oh sure, people will draw comparisons, but let them. I think it’s important for a writer to find their voice, but not worry too much about what others say.

Too many are worried about awards and contracts and crap like that, but I... No, I wouldn’t say I’m not. After all, I was really happy and proud of getting my Recommended Read for my cup of tea guide, and then my Editors’ Pick for I Am The Deep, Dark Woods, so I’m not gonna pretend that they don’t mean anything to me because I love that someone has taken the time to enjoy what I have written. But to get back to my point, I have only ever written for myself. It’s something I need to do to stop myself going bonkers. You’ll hear that a lot from writer-y-types.

It’s eight minutes past five anti meridiem, at the time of writing, and I should go to bed, but I’m just going to write. Write like I’m going bonkers and listen to Led Zeppelin. Rocking out to them. I just had a wee mosh there. I love what moshing does to my hair. Makes it look epic and all tousled.

I haven’t been to a really good metal concert for ages. The last really good concert was KT Tunstall. I had a really good time and even blushed when she talked to me. Well, she’d asked if anyone was in a long distance relationship and I replied a little late, so she was all “was that a late ‘yes’ from the back there?” And so I said “yes” and she was all “aww”, but the cool and crazy thing was that she seemed to recognise me from a wee acoustic set that she did in a record shop called HMV. That was about six years ago. I got her autograph and a picture taken with her. Yes, I was on cloud nine. She is one of my heroes. Never has she forgotten her roots and you can tell that she just loves performing and making music.

That’s the thing about creative types - they just create and do their own thing. Fame and fortune are sometimes a side effect of it, which is cool. Lucky fuckers! I’m sorry for my profanity, I’m just fiddling about with... Actually, I have no excuse for swearing. I shouldn’t, but I do it. Shoot me!

No! Don’t shoot me! It was a joke. Make no bones about it, I don’t joke about people shooting me. What am I saying? I just did! I’m mad. No, well, yeah. I’m ending this now.

Kittylove

Andrew =^.^=