So, the chapter I'm writing for the Uses of Blogs book is at the red pen stage. First draft finished this evening, and I've started scrawling all over it in, crossing bits, out, adding bits in, wondering what meds I must have been taking when I wrote that particular sentence. It needs a major rewrite before it's even close to being ready. Still, I have about 12 days before the deadline, so I'm not too worried at this point.
I should be doing ORG stuff now, though, but too tired. Instead, I'm sitting here listening to the omnipresent rumble of distant jets coming into Heathrow. They sound like the far away thunder of waves breaking on rocks. They have just the right sort of tone and frequency… ruuuuuUUUUUMMMMBBlllllleeeeeee … … … ruuuuuuUUUMMMMMBBBBllllllleeeeeeee … … …
If it weren't for the hum of the fridge, I could close my eyes and be there on the beach in Hawaii, hobbit at my feet, monster in jungle, skin cancer on the way. Wouldn't it be bliss to be lost for a while?
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