- Down in country-coastal towns, even being connected to the internet doesn't seem to keep the odd spot of boredom out. I would be reading or writing something or other anyway. And this blog business seems to be pretty well suited to people who think words are worth a damn.
- A friend of mine from Uni seems to have a similar setup and it looked nice and effortless all of a sudden.
- I wasn't feeling quite cliched enough.
- I'm one of those people, I think, who has always been a blogger at heart. We like being able to express ourselves in a more fluent and faux-journalistic style than a "diary" really warrants... writing as though others will be reading. But we take a certain amount of comfort in knowing no one really will.
- Or, in the words of Bernie Burns: "It's just like being a real journalist. Without all hassles of liability and accuracy."
- Boredom deserves another mention.
- Why not?
Also this book on Jeff Buckley and his father Tim is going to be an object of pride in my bookcase, not one of those bits of filler I never read.
Next up: New Years. Shitdamnfuck. But I guess if the universe didn't stop this train for John Mayer, it sure as hell isn't going to stop it for me.
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