(no subject)

I dreamed that the next season of Doctor Who is being written by a large green frog. (The Master is forcing the frog to write it.)

I <3 my new sleeping pills!

(no subject)

omg I'm an endangered species!

Sudden self-realisation

I was reading the brief bio of Huxley at the front of Doors of Perception when I suddenly identified, for the first time ever, the frantic thrashing giant worm that lives in my chest. It is envy. I loathe Aldous Huxley for his letteredness and his circle of literary friends. Why do I not have a BA, let alone a Pulitzer? Curse you Huxley!!!

ETA Which on reflection sounds incredibly rude to the considerable number of talented writers I do know. We should all get together and drink tea or something.