Tuesday, 27 March 2012


So I was booked in for a day of writing and expression and attempting to put something down on screen that didn't reek like last weeks training socks, but no. I looked to the day and rolled out of bed slightly late. A question arose in the air about jobs and employment and money and being skint and so I find myself on the bed seeking ways to earn money and actively not express anything other than a need for filthy lucre.

I've applied for jobs but the web page has expired in a fit of self driven stupidity played out by the lack of ability for it to do anything other than ask you what type of position you're looking for...and its not even wearing a wig and period dress to ram home how stupid a fuck up this is on an official gov site.

I'm about to try and do the 'writing thing' again but to be honest I'm knocked into a funk again. What's the point? I can reveal I've handed out my last project to four different people. One read it quickly and helped me edit, one worked his way through it over time and gave me useful feedback and the other two simply haven't bothered or have and feel its so shit they don't even want to have that conversation.

I pointed out last week that I'm not Joyce or Wordsworth, that's a given, but really? Not even read it?! Come on?!

I'm going to write today (no this doesn't really count to anything other than a word count and a cathartic explosion of disappointment) and I'm going to try, but realistically, if the people on your side can't be arsed then what fucking chance have you got against the haters?!

It would be better just to shoot me now.

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