(no subject)

[kbk]

omg *relief* got moneys yay. of course now feel guilty because I'm sponging off paternal for most of what I actually need - everything but beer, chocolate and bus fare. well, pretty much.

So I went to the charity shop and apologised for not going in yesterday, and I went and deposited the cheque (and dammit, it feels like a lot of money but I already owe over half of it) and I went to the shop and bought beer and cake and cigarettes (because I finally finished the pack I brought back from Mexico in stress of y'day and today.) Ooh, my hands are jiggling, that's exciting.

Fill in form, that's what I have to do. Then if I get on the CELTA course and if I get my head sorted out a little then I might be able to get a job in China or something and fuck the debt I don't actually care. I'll just wait for somebody to die and leave me money. Or, of course, fame and fortune as a novelist. Yeah. The first is actually more likely; and that is, not at all. Whateva.

Comments

[kensson.livejournal.com]

Sorry to put Plath in your brain. My suggestion would be to write 50 or so 1,000 word pieces with some characters in common and then arrange them in some kind of order. And I'm sure porn sells :o)

[kbk]

I have been informed that there's a gap in the market for lesbian erotica. and yes, vignettes.

See, my brain is twisty. And sometimes that's cool, because it lets me do things like blame Faith's angst on having been used by the Doctor (One, that is) as practice for looking after his granddaughter and then unceremoniously dumped a few years out of her own timeline. Sometimes, however, it gives me suicide-alcoholism-incredibly-depressing-poetry, but I just have to smack it when that happens.

Currently, the fat cat has commandeered the other end of my bed, and the roof of my mouth hurts because I have eaten too many Skips. I feel reasonably entertained.