Monday, February 20, 2006
Oooh ditto.
I have a week off.
Among other annoying events, or perhaps that should be non-events, I forgot to eat again today. I mean, I opened the cupboards and had a look around, I opened the fridge and the freezer and I grabbed a couple of things, then I put them back because I couldn't be bothered making anything because I realised I couldn't be bothered eating anything either.
My dog does enough eating for both of us, the fluffy fat red pig that he is. I didn't eat anything yesterday either. I tend to sleep through most of Saturday now. I rang my beloved Liz and spoke to her for an hour or so all the way across the ocean in Oregon. Ok, well she asked me to and I did because I do that sort of thing for people I love and I love Liz to bits.
It would be nice if people didn't shit on her as much as they seem to do. I wish she'd just get on a plane and come to Australia. She could learn to relax a little bit and there's no better place on earth - besides Ibiza - to relax. Australians are generally so laid back it's a wonder we're not all corpses.
I have a week to either find a new gig or just get a regular full time permanent job. Gigs are good because they're not permanent and they pay rather nicely, but they just don't seem to give me the same satisfaction as regular work.
I gave that youth newspaper a thorough going over yesterday too and was stunned and mortified and lots of other unpleasant words ending with d which pretty much meant this newspaper is nothing short of advertising pitched at teenagers. Fucking bastards. What a scam. Someone's getting paid too much and I bet they're not delivering even one tenth for what the misbegotten punter is paying. There's absolutely bugger all in it for young people.
S-Press has to be a better bet, but the thought of taking notepad, pen and paper into school events and that sort of thing smacks of whitewash to me. I don't like it, although to give them their due, they're not pretending to be a charity, they have a massive Your Say section and the ads are pretty much for the sort of stuff the kids go for whether they're advertised or not. Billabong sells itself, they don't need to advertise. S-Press's biggest flaw is the paper itself isn't a freebie. If it were, the circulation would probably go through the roof. Anyway, if I want a writing gig, or even a writing job, I'm going to have to toe someone's line and it sure as shit beats going up against a million other jokers all vying for a spot in The Big Issue (which is a surprisingly good publication) for a couple of hundred bucks a fortnight. That's good money for coffees after work but it ain't gunna cut it when the electrickery bill comes around.
Lastly, I spotted something somewhere which is right up Rageboy's alley right now, considering what he's writing. I must find it again and send him the link, though he's pretty much mapped out his book and everything he's going to put in it. Pro writers tend to do that - get their whole book planned, make the entire framework and never deviate even one iota from that framework as they fill in the gaps. Sorta means I'm probably too late, but it still may interest him nevertheless.
And between the time I wrote that and posted it here, I found the link for which I was searching. Damn I'm good.
The cap I habitually wear is wearing out and I can't get another one. What a bitch.
Among other annoying events, or perhaps that should be non-events, I forgot to eat again today. I mean, I opened the cupboards and had a look around, I opened the fridge and the freezer and I grabbed a couple of things, then I put them back because I couldn't be bothered making anything because I realised I couldn't be bothered eating anything either.
My dog does enough eating for both of us, the fluffy fat red pig that he is. I didn't eat anything yesterday either. I tend to sleep through most of Saturday now. I rang my beloved Liz and spoke to her for an hour or so all the way across the ocean in Oregon. Ok, well she asked me to and I did because I do that sort of thing for people I love and I love Liz to bits.
It would be nice if people didn't shit on her as much as they seem to do. I wish she'd just get on a plane and come to Australia. She could learn to relax a little bit and there's no better place on earth - besides Ibiza - to relax. Australians are generally so laid back it's a wonder we're not all corpses.
I have a week to either find a new gig or just get a regular full time permanent job. Gigs are good because they're not permanent and they pay rather nicely, but they just don't seem to give me the same satisfaction as regular work.
I gave that youth newspaper a thorough going over yesterday too and was stunned and mortified and lots of other unpleasant words ending with d which pretty much meant this newspaper is nothing short of advertising pitched at teenagers. Fucking bastards. What a scam. Someone's getting paid too much and I bet they're not delivering even one tenth for what the misbegotten punter is paying. There's absolutely bugger all in it for young people.
S-Press has to be a better bet, but the thought of taking notepad, pen and paper into school events and that sort of thing smacks of whitewash to me. I don't like it, although to give them their due, they're not pretending to be a charity, they have a massive Your Say section and the ads are pretty much for the sort of stuff the kids go for whether they're advertised or not. Billabong sells itself, they don't need to advertise. S-Press's biggest flaw is the paper itself isn't a freebie. If it were, the circulation would probably go through the roof. Anyway, if I want a writing gig, or even a writing job, I'm going to have to toe someone's line and it sure as shit beats going up against a million other jokers all vying for a spot in The Big Issue (which is a surprisingly good publication) for a couple of hundred bucks a fortnight. That's good money for coffees after work but it ain't gunna cut it when the electrickery bill comes around.
Lastly, I spotted something somewhere which is right up Rageboy's alley right now, considering what he's writing. I must find it again and send him the link, though he's pretty much mapped out his book and everything he's going to put in it. Pro writers tend to do that - get their whole book planned, make the entire framework and never deviate even one iota from that framework as they fill in the gaps. Sorta means I'm probably too late, but it still may interest him nevertheless.
And between the time I wrote that and posted it here, I found the link for which I was searching. Damn I'm good.
The cap I habitually wear is wearing out and I can't get another one. What a bitch.
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