I had my scan yesterday and felt really washed out and a bit depressed afterwards. It sounds daft, but having to lie perfectly still for a long period of time is really exhausting. I’m tense at the best of times, but lying in what feels like a coffin does nothing to help me relax. I chose pop rock music to listen to during my confinement, not that I heard much of it. Queen was drowned out by what sounded like an orchestra of pneumatic drills. I’m lying there with my eyes closed thinking ‘come on Freddie love, sing up, I can’t here you,’ and then I got to thinking about his life and death and what a horrible thing AIDS is and I nearly cried. He was such a wonderfully flamboyant figure. Surely it’s about time that a film was made about his life, or has it been done and I’ve missed it. Sometimes I think I live in a vacuum, I don’t know half of what goes on in the world. Too much time thinking and writing all things kinky, that’s my trouble.
Youngest son is 14 today. He’s gone off to the pictures with a few mates to watch Wolverine, taking most of my cash with him. It’s so expensive going to the pictures. There’s a lot of talk about people pirating movies, but I think the cinemas selling the tickets do most pirating. And then there’s the cost of popcorn etc, bloody hell, you could rescue a third world country from poverty for what it costs to buy popcorn and a soft drink from a cinema. I bought him an xbox 360 for his birthday. My God, I wish someone had told me how heavy the damn things are. I went into the shop where they sell them and, as instructed, picked a box off the shelf and took it to the till, saying, ‘I’ll have one of these and a selection of your most brutal, gore infested, blood drenched games please, suitable for a 14 year old of course.’ The shop guy duly got everything together and then requested an amount of money that caused my heart to stall and my credit card to break out in a sweat of fear. Anyway, once payment had been extracted, he bagged everything up and handed it over. Believe me, the display boxes bear no relation to the real thing. It weighed a ton. I could barely lift it up. I was shattered by the time I’d lugged it home on the bus.
Well, I promised myself that I was going to act like a pro writer today and do a certain number of words. I read emails from authors who say thing like, “I wrote 6,000 words at four am this morning and then allowed myself a cup of coffee before sitting down to write another 3,000." I do admire their discipline. See, I write about discipline, but I don’t have much self-discipline. I’m more likely to have 6,000 cups of coffee before sitting down to write a couple of words. ;-) I’m still working on Deadlines. The sub plot with Jude, Michael's brother, has become a bit muddled. I think I’m trying to make it more complex than it needs to be, and that’s perhaps why I’m messing around blogging instead of settling myself to writing. I’ve also got another story that I can’t seem to get on top of either, and I think it’s because I’m trying to confine it to being a short story and really it needs to be a bit more. Urgh, some days I think that writing is as much a curse/blessing as kink. I’m determined to write something to day…but first, a cup of coffee. ;-)