My mind is a total blank. A mess of disordered thoughts not particularly going down any Fictional Avenue. I feel like complete crap inside. Blessed are they who type out novels who are prominant in the land of the literati and the Elite of Grub Street (Clive James, Snakecharmers in Texas, and ‘North Face of Soho’) I don’t/do have axes to grind or i need to write my heart etc etc.
I tried to enter site but it was busy so maybe using this blog to record my progresss or rather lack of it may be a good idea.