That was just a placeholder sentence. I'm sure I'll remember to substitute words/punctuation in there later.
It's after miiiiiiiiiiiiiidnight and something evil's lurking in the dark. I think it might be a Mr Hyde.
They're all over the place at this time of year, building nests, scuttling about. Stupid Mr Hydes. But I can't bring myself to kill them. I suppose that's what makes me superior to all other humans alive today.
I haven't got anything to write. I think I'm too disgusted by the world, and also disgusted by anyone who isn't disgusted by the world. It makes it difficult to write the snappy prose upon which my career has been draped.
I'm contemplating drawing a picture of a matador on MS Paint. That's the stage I'm at. Pretty low. I'd say it was sad that I've been reduced to this, but it's not really much of a reduction. I've been in the pan for too long. There's no reduction here; I'm as liquid as I ever was.
I should go to bed.
The only thing keeping me here is a determination to produce a serviceable blog post. That and my fear of pillows.
So, here we go.
A serviceable blog post.
***
Once upon a time....
hang on.
***
Inside a Victorian... milking... area...
No wait.
***
Joan Rivers wasn't just an objectionable woman, she was also...
No. Just... it's... on the tip of my tongue...
***
We've all been in a situation in which Alec...
***
I...
...
Oh, forget it.
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