This blogging business has gone on far too long without me. I can no longer continue to lurk around the blogs of friends and strangers, marvelling at their dedication to the medium while I ignore my startling lack of the same. I will no longer steal the scene at late night booze benders with tales of crime and passion only to refer to the gaping hole in my story as 'the unfinished ending'. And I must not ever, ever, ever again start drinking wine at 4pm on a saturday with the excuse it's raining and cold and i'm bored. Bored? WTF? That whole concept is b-o-r-i-n-g.
So it is time. Axel my big black pussy-cat-face-man is used to me talking to him, to the plants and to myself, so it came as no shock, in fact he didn't even twitch (the fleas really are responding well to the treatment), when I turned on myself, gave me a short sharp finger poke in the chest, and said "Listen here you, there's more than one way to write a book. So what are you waiting for?"
