Face burn.

Morning.
I got up far too early this morning, went running, did some yoga to warm down, showered and then got ready for work. It hurts me that I didn’t manage to squeeze a little bit of writing into this morning’s routine but everything is going to plan, I’ve got half my short stories finished now, although a couple of them are being scrutinised, tested and checked by some dear friends who are guaranteed a safe passage into Valhalla with my blessing.

I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to orchestrate writing two thousand words a day into my routine as of next month. It’s going to be difficult, difficult, lemon difficult. I’ve been experimenting with getting an earlier train under the assumption that they would be quieter. It turns out more people are headed to London early than I had expected. I didn’t get a seat yesterday, let alone somewhere I could prop a laptop up for forty five minutes. Today’s search has been somewhat more fruitful. I’ve headed right for the back (like the naughty kids)
at school) and so far I have a four seater to myself. I think the trick of keeping a four seater is to look on edge or on drugs. My natural look is a balance between the two and I’m hoping I can keep the savages back all the way to Liverpool Street. Maybe I could get this seat cordoned off with rope, and hire a bouncer.

Anyway, I finished re re re re re reading Perks yesterday so now I’m re re re re re reading Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas. Keep it strange.

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