So it goes

*BLAM*


Somebody call the police!


*SMASH*


Hello? Someone's trying to get into my house!


*CREEEAAAAK - SNAP*


Please send some help. My address? It's 48 Wal...


*CRUNCH*


Heh heh heh.


Aaaaagh! Please don't hurt me.

Heh heh heh.

*SQUAWK*

Whuh - ?

Oh thank God! 


*SQUAWK SQUAWK*

Ohhhh.... nooooooooo

God bless you, Captain Beaksworthy!

*EGG*

*laughter*

***

There we go. How's that for a different opening?

That will show them. That'll show 'em. Th'll'm.

I should be doing something more useful than this. That's always the case.

But today in particular. I had a long to-do list. This post was one of the items, but was not a priority.

I intended to wake up early and make a dental appointment. I'm not having any teeth problems, but I haven't been to the dentist in nearly ten years. That seems like too long.

Anyway, I didn't wake up in time.

Then, I intended to go to a coffee shop in Summertown and concentrate on some writing. No distractions - just black coffee and dedication. A productive morning.

I didn't wake up in time for that either. I didn't wake up in time for much morning.

But still, I can do my writing here at home. I just need to concentrate. All writing, all work, no distractions, no problem.

I made a playlist of songs. They didn't really have anything to do with the writing, but it seemed like more fun. Then I ate some bran flakes, then I watched an episode of Larry Sanders, and now I'm here.

My to-do list is still there, untouched like the many to-do lists of Pompeii.

I didn't even write it down. I never create actual to-do lists. I just have them in my head. It's much better than putting them on paper because having a to-do list in your head is constantly oppressive and unreliable.

Having such a terrible system prompts me to get the tasks done.

Except I haven't got any of them done.

Except this.

Accept this.

But I have finished a book, and you know what that means!

***

An Idiot Flaps Odyssey - Part 17

Who's been reading all the books on a certain shelf consecutively? Who has taken far too long to do so? Who's the black private dick that's a sex machine to all the chicks?

You damn right.


Intro
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16

***

Kurt Vonnegut - Slaughterhouse 5

Vonnegut again.

Vonnegut begin again.

Vonnegut begin agut.

I read this quite recently, but thought I'd read it again, because it's good. I'm sure you all know that.

It's an impressive work that's anti-war and anti-linear. It just goes to show that it's sometimes best to deal with serious issues in an unconventional way, to really bring home the real impact.

The descriptions of the second world war are terrifying. It's incredible to think that so many people had to go through such horrors, and that it wasn't even that long ago.

There are a lot of things wrong with the world today, but I don't think we should lose sight of how relatively horror-free the modern world is.

And by "we" I mean white, Western, heterosexual men. There are other horrors out there at the moment, but they're mostly experienced by people with a darker skin pigment or less money than me, so it doesn't really matter.

(I like my irony like I like my coffee: black and a woman)

I suppose it was the seeming universality of WWII that makes it so scary. A whole generation of people lived (if they were lucky) through a huge mess of fire and bombs and rations.

It makes me feel like I should probably stop whining about getting up early for work, and not completing my to-do list.

But early mornings are my Hitler.

Anyway, the book is funny and scary and interesting.

In many ways, Vonnegut was lucky. Being there for the destruction of Dresden gave him some real authority in his writing. I've never seen a whole city destroyed. Which means my writing will always seem a bit frivolous.

Tragedy is the writer's fuel.

Fill 'er up.

***

[Not really, not really, not really. I'm touching wood right now, and buying a three-course meal for some magpies. I'd rather have a lack of tragedy than a good idea for a book.

Though couldn't it be said that me not writing a book would be the greatest tragedy of all?

It's a Catch-22. Or a Slaughterhouse 5.

Or one of those other warnumber books.]