Wednesday, 7 December 2011

Random stuff

I can't find anything to write about. I'm afraid nothing is happening in the world of finance. I know you don't believe me, dear reader(s), but it's true. Nothing is happening. And: nothing ever happens. I merely pretend that it does. I know you're shocked.

So, I'm just going to write about random stuff. My discipline seems to have gone. Well, it's nearly Christmas, give me a break. Reader, you expect too much of me. I may be superhuman, but that doesn't mean I can write for years on end without losing my grip occasionally. / Martin Amis says he writes for two hours a day, and that's enough. Ha! He should try being a blogger. No, let him stick to the zombie novel. It's a dead parrot, actually. But no one's told him or his friends. What a shame! It's like James Joyce never existed! Never mind. I'm not the literary police. Let them do what they want. What do I care? They'll find out - when it's too late.

I'm feeling very tired. It could be the pills. Or the pain keeping me awake at night. A quarter of my chest is yellow. I'm going to the hospital tomorrow, fracture clinic. I think I'm getting better. Well, I hope I am. Gotta stay positive. I know I'm getting better.

I'm listening to Elvis Costello. I don't know why. He seems a great songwriter, but also quite superficial compared to guys like Bob Dylan and Van Morrison. Probably more clever than great. The lyrics are overcooked like he's desperately trying to surpass Dylan. Well, that ain't gonna happen. / I'm glad I'm not into serious songwriting (like I used to be). It's a lot of hassle for something which is still going to be a part of popular culture whatever you do. No, it's commercial pop songs for me. I want to have fun and make money. Yes, I'm embracing popular culture! But I really should leave it out of my blog. Well, I will. I promise (myself). After Christmas.

I'm listening to Amy Winehouse now. This is more like it. 'Black ... black ... black.' Marvellous!

I, er ... laters. Coney Island Baby.