No matter how incompetent I am as compared to thousands of literaryintellectuals out there, I swear I'm not an idiot.


I feel like having a long 45 minutes talk with anyone who's not an idiot, about nothing in particular.


LIKE HOCKEY.
TENNIS.
BADMINTON.
SWIMMING.
CYCLING.


wheee


Three's a nice number.


My muse, my muse!


muses aside, I just got I-want-to-bury-my-head-in-a-pillow kind of depressed. Reality is like cold cake.


Far too rich.