Articles from Cheeseburger Gothic
Sometimes i get tired of writing grown up columns. Then things like this happen:
Finally! Prince William got a proper haircut.
Not being a foot fetishist, I"ve never dreamed of drinking champagne from one of Jimmy Choo"s finely crafted stilettos. I"ve never thought of drinking champagne out of anything other than a champagne flute, or in a pinch, a coupe; one of those shallow, wide-rimmed glasses reputed to have been modelled on Marie Antoinette"s boob.
Five books, basically.
After a shocker last year I just want to get my head down and write some novels. The long awaited Girl in Time sequel. The even longer awaited WW 3.1. Another space opera. My end of the world thingies. And a couple of conventional thrillers.
It would be a nice retreat from the world.
I suspect nice retreats from the world are going to be in high demand for the next few years.
There are some shows on the streamz that I have to take a sip at a time. Ozark, Breaking Bad, even Daredevil. There"s an intensity to them that precludes consuming the series in a long binge.
I've been meaning to spool up the Burger again, and have decided to run a few old bits from Alien Side Boob here this week as a subscriber drive, and a way of reminding myself to come here every day and fucking post something.
"Conan, what is best in life?"
To make the yellow light at the intersection with but a fraction of a second to spare, then to savour expressions of your enemies, the other, lesser drivers as they are bathed in the loathsome flash of the red light camera.
I've reached the point in this deadline where I can wrote or I can exercise but I cant do both. So I might be going backswards on my fitness over the next week.
Must stay away from the bakery.
Dropped 2.3 kgs in six days.
Still drank some beer and ate a lot of barbecue.
Body feels like I've been beaten with extension cords.