Pentaceratops

I know it's early December, but for some reason I can't stop thinking about Easter eggs.

I have just finished my second bottle of Yazoo of the day. I bought them at one of those dimly lit international food stores while I was picking up milk. The label on the shelf said that they were two for one, which seemed good, but they didn't actually have a price attached. When I got to the counter, the counter-man audibly tallied my three milk products and promptly charged me three quid.

The milk was one of those which is designed to look like four pints but is really only two litres, which contributed to my feeling of having been perhaps slightly duped. Still, anything is better than lying awake in bed at night wondering if all of your house mates secretly hate you because you're consuming more milk than you provide.

What a very boring story. I also do exciting things, like that one time on Tuesday that I went to a pub quiz. I have written a short radio play about something that happened there:

Actual quotes are emboldened

Scenario: A pub. Chinking glasses, chit chat, all that sort of thing. A microphoneman is running a quiz through a reliable but low quality sound system. David and Isaac are sat at the same table, with some of their friends, who are also their fellow quizmen.

DAVID: "Oh boy I am having so much fun at this quiz it really is the knees on a bee"

ISAAC: (Communisticly) "Shuddup Dave"

D: "I do hope ever so much that we win. It was awful rummy getting the answer right on that picture round and claiming our lovely wine prize"

I: "Dave be quiet it's the next question and we have to listen so that we can hear it and then get it right when we answer so that we can win the whole quiz"

MICROPHONEMAN: "Question 21: What name did scientists give to a recently discovered, five horned dinosaur?"

D: (Quite logically) "What's the one with three horns... Triceratops. Uhh... Pentaceratops? I think it makes sense."

I: "It's not pentaceratops"

Isaac's pen scratches loudly on the paper as he writes something stupid.

D: "Dracorex Hogwartsia! That is a very stupid name for a dinosaur."

I: "They named a dinosaur that recently."

D: "I think my answer makes more sense"

I: "Dave, they stopped naming dinosaurs like that years ago. Anyhow, I know more about dinosaurs than you will ever know in your life.

The conversation swells and falls again, denoting the passing of time

MM: And the answer to question 21: The five horned dinosaur was named 'Pentaceratops'

D: Shouts at Isaac Stovell with great enthusiam and little restraint, spends the last twenty minutes of the evening blabbering on about how everyone should have listened to him.

END OF ACT ONE

Well, that is not a vary spatially efficient way of delivering anecdotes.

I did the prayer at the carol service, and didn't blunder it awfully, so that was nice.

My excitement about Christmas grows, and my desire to be home in London, combined with various deadlines, socials and other endeavours makes me feel a bit like this:

Slightly uneasy, but docile and lethargic as I await my homecoming.

This blog entry gets about 6/10, my life is not that exciting.

A Wee Adventure

From an interior design perspective, toilets are pretty interesting. Often they seem quite aesthetically removed from the larger building of which they are a part, and I propose that this is no accident. For most people, the practise of using public toilets is uncomfortable due to a perceived lack of privacy, the awkward juxtaposition of public location and private endeavour. What better way to nullify this discomfort than by designing such utilities so as to make them seem distant from their wider setting? About quarter of an hour ago, I had the pleasure of visiting a water closet which showcased this concept almost perfectly.

Just presently, I am sitting in St George's Church. It is not really a church at all, but a lecture theatre. Once a place of reverent worship and stunning architecture, it is now a nauseating celebration of the colour magnolia. The stained glass windows that run along the top of the magnolia walls are hidden behind large, magnolia curtains. The ceiling, also, is magnolia. Very big, very boring. Half cathedral, half retirement home sitting room.

But the toilets. Oh, the toilets.

I've attended lectures here at least twice a week for the last year of my life, and only this morning I visited the men's bathroom for the first time. They are a whispered secret, a hidden treasure.

The lighting is warm and dim, the walls a mysterious aquamarine. It's like looking up into the distant canopy of a deep, lush forest, or being alone and underwater. Perhaps it is like being in love. The following quote comes to mind:

"For twenty-three years he had remained celibate and heart-whole; land bound. Now for the first time he was far from shore, submerged among deep waters, below wind and tide, where huge trees raised their spongy flowers and monstrous things without fur or feather, wing or foot, passed silently, in submarine twilight. A lush place."

Evelyn Waugh - Scoop

No joke - the whole experience genuinely reminded me of that passage. The walls had this kind of dark green panelling on them which added a subtle depth and quiet liveliness to the overall experience. It was a little unfamiliar, and yet wonderfully comfortable; the overall feeling was one of being hidden. My words can only do so much justice to such immersive design. If you live in Sheffield, let me urge you to undertake similar ventures for yourself.

Another very good Sheffield University toilet can be found downstairs in the Stephenson building, but that's another story for another day.

Sometimes people say that they like blog because it does not take a very long time to read. I have spoken for a while about going to the toilet.

Goodbye.

Not a Lot

Hello.

It's back
The blog is back
Wipe away your tears
Read my blog
Think I'm cool

I tried a little bit to write a post before, but it was far too long and boring.

What have you been doing this week Dave?

I have been playing a lot of the Team Fortress 2 Halloween event. Perhaps too much of it. Definitely too much. Kill wizard, get hat. The hats aren't real, nor are the wizards. The same cannot be said of the invested time.

Writing a blog is a useful aid in critically evaluating your personal time use. Why don't you waste some of your personal time looking at this wonderful GIF?

MAJESTIC AS CAT

These are the best cats the internet has to offer. They belong to an Asian man who posts videos of them on YouTube.

NOTHING HAS EVER BEEN THIS CUTE BEFORE

I have also been utilising YouTube to further explore the work of Shai Linne, both old and new. Why expand your music taste when you can just reinforce your existing preferences. Why use YouTube to listen to music when Spotify is a thing? Yeah good question.

Hey you know something exciting I did that didn't involve the internet? I went to this wild party:



The video is only thirty seconds long, but the whole thing actually went for a considerably longer amount of time. I went to a real life rave and had a wonderful time. I also had about two hours sleep before getting up to do sound the next day at church.

It's no secret that university is absolutely mental. I find myself exposed daily to a flood of new ideas and experiences. Sometimes it is fun, sometimes it is puzzling, all times it is fascinating.

Relatively boring post, but hopefully the fire is rekindled. Make life more exciting, write exciting blog about it. Monetise blog and become a millionaire.

Audio Visual Experience

Good news everyone, my exams are over. I have no more work to do and I can literally go mental.

"It's so easy being a freak, no wonder they're ten a penny"

This evening I went mental at a pirate themed ceilidh. An old man scolded me: "It's not rock and roll."
I made myself a pirate hat, which I have written a poem about:

My hat is made of paper
it shall not last the night
But ah my foes and oh my friends
my hat is full of sweat

Apparently I tried to do blogging a couple of weeks ago. It went like this:

Today I fell off my scooter. Yesterday I also fell off my scooter. This is probably the closest thing to a routine that I have had for the last few weeks.

Yesterday I fell going slowly uphill and hurt my knee. Today I fell going quickly downhill and hurt my forearm and waist and shirt and bag. The great weakness of scooters is that, because the brake is on the back wheel, any attempt to slow down at high speed greatly reduces your control of the vehicle. This is something that I only really realised today, so I am yet to perfect my speedy downhill technique.

Yesterday was exam and stag do day. First I went to an exam, which I think I did not fail. It was very difficult in places, and they wanted me to know about electronics. After that, it was time to do stag with Tim Brown, who gets married in like just two weeks. We went to Cosmo, which is basically a super duper round the world buffet.

*****

There are a lot of colons in this blog. When I got back from the ceilidh, some people from my block were sat outside playing acoustic guitars. When people play acoustic guitars outside during twilight, it's basically impossible not to feel overwhelmingly melancholy. I sat on the steps for a while and regretted having not tried very hard to make friends with the people in my block. It all felt a lot like the last day of camp, when you're thirteen and you think it's possible to have made more than five life long friends in a single week, all of whom you will shortly be separated from. I took my leave when they started talking about things like 'blazing up' and 'having fun'.

The wound sustained from the scooter injury I recalled earlier has nearly healed. In other news, Tim Browns WEDDING IS TOMORROW OH YEAH CEREMONY BOY OH BOY WEDDING BREAKFAST AND THEN WEDDING CELIDH THAT'S TWO CEILIDHS IN TWENTY FOUR HOURS.

I only stayed for a couple of dances this evening, both of which were with old ladies. Blackbeard's Tea Party played, and boy do they run a tight musical ship. It's basically their fault that I got told off for rock-rolling.

I have trousers and a shirt to go with my jacket, both of which I purchased yesterday from a local charity shop.

Because all my exams are over, I'm now free to do exciting things and then blog about them. I'll tell you all about the wedding soon.

Oh, almost forgot, a visual treat for all you fans out there. A nutrition study I guinea pigged for has left me with five days worth of stills from my life, which I have condensed into this trendy video, and set to all my favourite music. Presenting: Five thousand pictures in less than ten minutes.

Let's all pretend not to notice how much time I spend playing TF2

Does it ever happen to you that exciting things occur in your life faster than you can document them? 

Tim Brown is married now, and I have to go and play flag football with a load of Americans.

Behind Blinds

I'm like my cat, taking up space between the window and the blind. It’s one of her favourite places. I'm headed towards her now, on a London bound Megabus. The crimped mesh curtain is like a veil between me and the other passengers, creating a small pocket of privacy where the view is better and the air slightly colder.

Of course all this is all past tense, because you can’t type and look out of the window at the same time. Let’s talk about some other things from the past, because we’ve basically covered the present and I'm still working on my ability to accurately foretell the future.

Why was I so distant from my cat that I am now having to take a coach in order to get back to her? Should all geographical locations be pinpointed by absolute distance from my cat? No. That would mean that a number of different places would be described as the same place. I was far from my cat because I was working alongside my gap year pals, the Youth Development Team, running a Steward’s Trust camp. The Steward’s Trust are like the Christian Union but for public school kids.

Was it fun? Yes. We sang songs and went underground and over ground and on the water. At one point we went over a little more ground than we were required to, which might have been my fault because my whole job was basically to know where we were going. I felt like a big idiot for a while, but unavoidable quantities of good fun and gospel preaching soon put a stop to that. At the end of the week there’s always a massive party, for which Becky Jennings provides a veritable feast and we pump filthy tunes all night. Of course not properly filthy, it’s a Christian camp for fifteen year old kids. Also sometimes not even like “filthy”; again because fifteen year old kids. There was a generous helping of One Direction, amongst other things. We had to abandon ‘Harder Faster Better Stronger’. The juvenile jivers didn't seem to understand what a grimy tune it is, and left the room in droves. A sad sight indeed.

-- Some Time Passes --

Like a whole week of time. I've been at home, very slowly working on a totally bonk engineering report whilst playing much Borderlands 2 with my friends.

K'fv gsvpok wisi Bqutjy Wprbsait wiqkh

Xyow wvl'w qfu oziy 'K'fv xodzaqv xied zlo ks egwnxu'

K vufnw 'Yjt K oziy vh xodza xied tegvs'

Zpo vmvl vuku vh dtetejif ksalh

This cipher is now not really humanly crackable. I've equipped some of my contacts with the decryption software, but they don't know how to use it and think that my life is too boring to investigate. So basically nobody is reading any of that.

There was a duck on my roof yesterday, quacking all the time. It was great.

Okay good. Hey check this out. 

Me and Ruth Lovell and Claire Lovell have been having lots of fun with it. I made a drawing of a tree / squid called Tree Squid. Ruth did the Cat on this page, which I think is Cid.

Here is a picture of Tree Squid:

Easter Beans

What time is it?

It's the holiday time.

Everybody is at home in London, especially my lovely cat. Today she has been extra nice and even very nearly sat on my lap.

This blog post is probably going to be a little pedestrian.

[Drum Snare]

 I mean, it's been a long time since there was any activity here, which means that a lot of exciting things have happened, but I tend to only remember exciting things that have happened within the past seven days. Thus far, the Easter break has been relaxing, but not really very eventful. 

Here is an event: I went to Alex Du-Gal's birthday. Top boy Du-Gal recently turned twenty, and it was my privilege to attend a celebratory meal with him at the Harvester in Enfield. Also in attendance were Will 'Illicit Dealer' Barrett, Emma 'Good Girl' Biles and Andy 'My Cousin' Lovell. None of those nicknames are for real. There were also some other people who seemed nice but whose names I cannot remember. We hung around outside for a while after the meal and talked about scat, imagining a utopian society where a higher public understanding of music would lead to 'scat battles' taking the place of present day rap battles.

While I'm home I've picked up my rather neglected trombone and taught myself to play the backing bit to 'Stand by Me', which goes like this: 'Bom bom bom - bom, bom bom bom - bom...'. It sounds even better on trombone than reading 'Bom' in your head, and I feel mildly accomplished. Of all the (few) pieces I've learnt, it's probably one of the higher ranking pieces in terms of difficulty to reward ratio.

That's about it. Tomorrow I set sail for Wales to help with an exciting camp for private schooled kids, which will probably involve all kinds of things to write home about. That spells good news for you, target audience.

I've had a really good idea, which is to fill space at the end of this post with a review. 'Review' is just a word you can use to make your own opinion sound reasonable and qualified. What better place for such a thing than on this website, which is basically already dedicated to feeding my self importance? You can only really review things well whilst you are experiencing them, so I am going to review this (unfinished) game that my sister is making, which she says is called 'A 3D Game Designed for Teaching Kids to Control their Powered Wheelchairs in a Fun and Safe Environment' or 'Explore the Castle'. 

Explore the Castle's most prominent feature is undoubtedly its control scheme. The game is designed to be played with a joystick similar to that of an electric wheelchair, which limits the player to rotating or moving forwards and backwards in a straight line. Whilst the inability to strafe seems inconvenient, so does the prospect of being wheelchair bound in general. Like all good simulators, Explore the Castle's control interface lends itself to realism over convenience. The realism, however, begins and ends there.

From being telepathically greeted by an anthropomorphic balloon to finding yourself held hostage in the kitchen of a featureless, ovoid 'chef', the entire game is basically one massive trip.

"Let's Cook"

The full game title states that this game should simulate a 'Fun and Safe Environment'. Having experienced the in game environment for myself, I can say with confidence that it is both terrifying and dangerous. There doesn't seem to be any overarching quest or narrative, only an eclectic mix of disjointed and threatening scenarios. Whilst completing tasks in exchange for the promise of cake is enough to invoke anxiety in most gamers, the award for 'most inexplicable and terrifying scene' goes to the episode in which the player glides through a door in a castle and then appears in some kind of underground maze / lava pit. Imagine that bit from Half Life where you're traversing across an ethereal inter-dimensional void, only this time you're in a wheelchair and you're even less sure of why you are doing it.

Pictured: Life as a Wheelchair User

In summary: Unless your recently paralysed child dreams of being a volcanologist or running errands for a man with no mouth, you should probably wait for the full release.

Barefoot Bidness

Today is one of those days which are like an announcement trailer for summer. The sun has been properly out, but it's still starting to set at about three o'clock. Nevertheless, today was a warm today, and we've not really had many of those until now.

It's been a pleasant, but uneventful day. Let me tell you about some moderately interesting things that have happened during its first half.

Friday Hatman gets Political

I'm a big fan of Friday Hatman, this is probably his most politicised video yet. I sometimes wonder about women who wear head coverings. Can they wear hats as well? Probably, I guess they don't think it would be very fashionable to have both at once.

I go for a Barefoot Run

I use the term 'run' liberally here. It is hard to run barefoot. I sort of lightly jogged to the park, sat in a tree and then walked around a bit. Barefoot running seems like the kind of thing that takes a while to get used to, particularly on some of Sheffield's more poorly maintained pavements. However, after today's experiences I can heartily recommend walking barefoot in the forest. You can get your feet muddy, wash the mud off in a clear, cold stream and then dry off your soles on a crinkly carpet of fallen oak leaves. I can see this becoming a regular activity as summer rolls fully in.

Well, that business was all the way back on Friday, and now it's Wednesday. Sunday was even sunnier than before, and today is looking good also. It is all very exciting.

Speaking of exciting, this week is the Christian Union's events week, which is basically the pinnacle of the Christian calendar, shortly followed by Easter and Christmas.

It's mostly over now, so who cares?

Joke, joke. I care, but I need to start posting these posts in between writing them. I realised this today whilst watching Friday Hatman's latest video, meaning that a full week had passed since I last edited this thing.

I'm on a Megabus coach. They have free wifi, so they are basically better and cheaper than National Express. I'm going home to London for an exciting house-warming party and much other merriment.

Enough about now, what about before?

Events week was about as kicking as everyone expected, Lindsay Brown and Michael Ots did their thing real nice, eliminating misconceptions and apologising all over the show. Turns out the new testament is a pretty reliable historical resource.

The weather was, likewise, pretty kicking. Yesterday I ate ice cream, sipped cider, walked through the botanical gardens, rescued a frisbee and sheepishly haunted the outskirts of a barbeque populated mostly by friends of a friend.

This blog post has mostly gone to pot. There was some professional-ish graphology and almost coherent formatting going on at the beginning, but now it's just a scattering of random memories from throughout the last fortnight. Probably best if we draw things to a close here.

I think I'll spend the rest of this journey improving my cipher, because the one I've got currently is pretty rubbish. My friend Joy used to write everything in a cipher, but hers was sort of better  because she kept it all in her head.

Top Secret Bidness

I left my fez.

"How did you leave your fez?"

"Who cares?"

"What's a horse's favourite sport?"

Stable tennis.

I left my fez on the train because there was too much joking and too little forward planning. It was definitely under my chair, and there was definitely time to get it, but I did that thing where I get flustered and completely loose my ability to see the thing that I am looking for. I wore my Jaxon beanie for the long walk home from the station. It wasn't the same.

So, hat count is thirteen. Not that it's really about the numbers. David Storm got me that hat while he was in Turkey, so there's a certain sentimental value. I don't really get that, because a conversation with Holl Medianna this weekend confirmed my understanding that it is offensive / illegal to wear a fez in Turkey. Did you know that the king of Morocco is the only Arab leader to wear a fez in public? 

Yeah, you heard that right, I spent the weekend with Holl Medianna. I didn't really, because Forum NE (some Christian Union ting) was pretty busy and I invested most of my free time in running to York and back with my homeboys. Still, it was cool to catch up. We had a picture together, and now everybody is going mental because I am pictured with a girl. My father informs me that my grandparents were 'keen to know who the young lady was.' I guess it's hard for them to perceive me as the smooth operator that I am, being in pictures with different young ladies every week like it's not even a thing.

I think I left my bible at Forum also, but I'll admit it doesn't bother me as much as the fez. There is no fezgateway.com. On the plus side, I've probably gifted an unknown stranger with a handmade hat, and now there is space in my hat collection for a new, exciting and perhaps even high quality fez, maybe even one with a stem. Who knows?

 I'm not wearing a hat today. I stand by my proposition that not wearing a hat is a kind of hat.  Enough about hats.

I did that thing again where I leave a blog post unpublished for about five years. I wrote a C program to encrypt data and now I'm going to sell it to the government. Or maybe give the decryption software to my friends and write top secret messages on my blog. That is a brilliant idea. Perhaps I will have to improve the cipher over time to be less rubbish.

Eltb Ylszw dfwajze vufc gxc gsz, qyd htr qfu vuk belsdaz dobaqsp
ypvl gwmu bretkoej xied fvxz yoflwlz pxbdzmiyd ltjg.

Well, that is super exciting. Hit me up if you crack it or anything, then I can employ you when I am rich.

Hey check out this fez website. Pity they start at like £60.

Okay good.

Eclectic Bidniss

We've got a new flatmate from America. He wears very fun shorts and is real friendly. We're having a delicious flat welcome dinner on Monday. I wonder if he can make barbeque pull apart pork. Even if he can't, he seems like a swell guy, and his presence compliments the overall social dynamic of the flat, which is basically a 'cool guys only' dynamic. He can be our friend.

I am for real going to be in a kazoo / ukulele band. We're meeting next Tuesday to practice. I'm not sure where or what we'll be practising, but it's an official thing. From now on, girls will think about me: 'That guy is in a band, what a really cool guy.'

I'm actually in a lecture right now, sat at the back updating my blog. It's fine, because we're just going over a synopsis of last semester's content. Our new lecturer is pretty cool, I think he's the guy who interviewed me at the open day. John Rossiter likes for you to find things out for yourself, where as this guy seems to take an approach that involves actually delivering lectures in the lecture slots, rather than linking you to his YouTube videos and declaring all lectures to be public tutorials.

A whole two days have elapsed since two lines ago, and now the band is really for real, we've scheduled a legit jam sesh.

How does one go about abbreviating the word 'session'? It's much easier said that done.

I just spilt a lot of tinned spaghetti on my carpet, but now it's dealt with.

Running is the new walking. Lately I've been going to this parkrun on a Saturday morning, which is pretty good fun. Dave Stewart has been luring me further and further into the whole running thing, but I'm being careful not to get in too deep. I'm beginning to suspect that if Dave Stewart stopped running for more than five minutes, he would just die. He very kindly accompanied me around Endcliffe Park this morning at about five percent of his usual pace, all the while giving me helpful pointers. Mostly you have to move your legs faster than they can go, but so that your footfall is silent. It's important to drink flavoured milk afterwards, because after a run is when flavoured milk tastes most delicious.

I flooded my kitchen yesterday by mistake, and then I was late to the Saving Private Ryan party. SPRP was pretty rad, we watched the film in absolute silence and then afterwards Meg Longman busted out some home made slow gin, which we sipped appreciatively as we played mafia. It was all very grown up.

It's taken me like four whole days to write this blog post. Somebody in our life group was showing us their blog, and it was all super pretty with photographs and probably meaningful words. Who cares anyway?

Until next time, when maybe I will have some more interesting things to write home about.

Not Working

A lot of the time I'm supposed to be working, but instead I find myself playing video games where you get to turn guns into hats. Other times I frustrate my cat and wish it loved me more. Also I watch breaking bad. Or at least I did, until I finished it earlier today. What did we learn from breaking bad? Here's a list:

• Human beings are nasty pieces of work
• When I say "Yes, I love you too," to a cat who is meowing disdainfully and trying to escape my clutch, I am bit like Walter White.
• Everybody is a bit like Walter White
• Hmmmm...

It's a series I thoroughly recommend. Claire Lovell, on the other hand, recommends that I do some work. Or at least something more wholesome that pretending to shoot people, watching people pretend to shoot people and antagonising God's innocent creatures. So here we are, indulging in the ageless pleasure of the written word.

I tried to update my blog like a week ago, but it just ended up being like a two page account of a train journey into London. I spent around an hour and a half writing it, but for your sake I have condensed it into a bullet pointed summary:

• I was trying to catch the 7:30 train to Doncaster
• I had to run for the bus
• I missed my stop
• I ran to the station. My hat fell off
• I had to renew my railcard. A very slow old lady was doing it. I took a free mince pie.
• I only just got my train. There was a funny bit with a lift.
• I realised I should actually have been rushing for the 7:00 to Doncaster, which meant that all my rushing had been pointless
• I ate the mince pie in Doncaster
• I started to freak out, then stopped after I realised that I had two bank accounts
• I missed a train because I was on the wrong side of the platform. My train stopped directly behind me and I turned around just in time to see it leave.
• I spent a while lamenting over how inept I was.
• I got on a very late train. The conductor wished me a merry Christmas and let me get on with the wrong ticket.

Hooray!

A couple of weeks ago I became the proud owner of a 'Hungry Hummer' kazoo, made by the wonderful Doc Kazoo himself.

Doc Kazoo is basically the king of wooden kazoos and customer service. The whole process was wonderfully personalised and the kazoo is definitely the best I have every played.

I like the kazoo so much that I worry about it. Sometimes I feel like I'm playing it really well and that it is the greatest instrument of all time. Other times I'll be playing it not so well and I'll begin to worry that it was never as good as I imagined, and that kazoos can never be good instruments. There's this tiny fissure (like barely visible) along the grain of the wood that seems to have been caused by the screw. It's probably fine, but I have this horrible image of the kazoo just breaking in half one day. I'm always noticing tiny imperfections on its surface, which I know I've caused, but I'm not sure how. It's like every time I touch it, I make it less perfect and bring it closer to falling apart entirely.

I'm in a similar position with my new hat. Today I picked it up and felt like the brim had bent out of shape a little bit. It definitely hasn't.

Christmas was way fun and hanging out with my family is way cool, but I'm actually feeling increasingly eager to get back to my friends at university. I feel like hat wearing and kazoo playing is met with most enthusiasm amongst my friends in Sheffield, and I long for them to share in my materialistic joy. Sometimes I wish that all the people I love could live in some kind of colony, so that all my friends could be friends. I guess that would also make me the most popular person there, so I would have to be in charge.

Sometimes I think about writing things other than just this blog, but enjoying writing and even being good at it are different things from being able to write anything worth reading. Constructing a narrative is an entirely different skill to simply expressing things that are already in your brain. If I was going to write something, it would be a story about a hard boiled detective who was also a duck. This would pass the time and satisfy Claire Lovell's demands that I invest my time more wisely, but would it be any good? Who even knows. I guess good writing is the product of the mistakes learned from bad writing. Speaking of bad writing, does anybody know if bullet-points need full stops? They seem somehow exempt in my book, but I can't really justify this at all. I tend, as you may have noticed, to punctuate some and not others.

For a while I found myself putting large, square full stops at the end of my sentences, but that was an unusual period.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA