HTML> any man with a microphone

September/October 2003


a raincoat with four sleeves


the cookie jar


the old one

2.12.03

I'm too lazy to edit this thing, so go to the cookie jar can?




25.11.03 (The real Tuesday)

I'm the wrong body shape for dresses. I give up. Shall wear nothing but jeans and a dog collar to the office dinner and dance.





25.11.03

Hello. I'm back.

And sorely in need of computer literacy.

Can I bitch about the civil service? About writing in numbered paragraphs? And in point form? I can't. Don't you need a paragraph to think in? A long unnumbered unencumbered paragraph. Alright it's a silly complaint.

Tell you what. I'm throwing a Pratchett party. At my place. 23rd December, maybe? Come? Come even if you don't read Pratchett? Come and read Pratchett? I have the Guards trilogy (Guards, Guards!, Men at Arms and Feet of Clay) and Nightwatch. And the one with the pyramids. Er, Pyramids. No?

(Yes after a month and a half I come back and bitch about work and gush about Pratchett. And what did you expect?)





Am I really immortal, does the sun care, when you leave will you give me back the words? Don't evade, don't pretend you won't leave after all: you leave in the story and the story is ruthless.

- Margaret Atwood, from the Circe/Mud poems.