Mr Rabbit, back between some poor girl’s legs.

My pretty little head is near bursting with things to waffle on about at the moment, writers festivals and celebrity twitter followers and ascribing too much humanity to people who do monstrous things… or not, which apparently is the way to go. Empathy, it seems, is fucking dangerous.

Unfortunately for all (three) of you, my head is also bursting with the mashy remnants of malted and distilled barley, although it must be said, I am just now beginning to reach that point of equilibrium wherein the body, on the one hand, has recovered enough to start thinking that another wee dram might be quite nice, and on the other still feels poorly enough that it looks like a little tipple might be the only thing that will make things better. The result, in either case, is that you don’t get to listen to me rabbit on about any of the afore mentioned inanities.

Just on a little side note about rabbits, it was suggested to me earlier, when I’d made a previous comment about Mr Rabbit’s fucking cunthood, that he has neither the depth nor the warmth to be called a cunt. I thought that needed sharing. Unfortunately, despite the wit, it was not enough to convince me that there’s a more apt term than fucking cunt to describe Tony Abbott.

Anyhoo, back to the matter at hand, which is that my head’s not really in a state capable of writing anything very poignant (or even slightly witty) at present. Also, I have other commitments, writing ones, mainly to myself, to actually make some submission deadlines for a change, but some not also.

I’d like to say that if I don’t get my other shit done, I won’t get paid, but I won’t get paid anyway… but due to the dubious commitments to self, I am taking a break for a few weeks. Also because of an impending drive across the Nullarbor to Adelaide. I know right? The Nullarbor? Adelaide? What the fuck is wrong with me? Four and a half days days in a car with the wife and the parents, the people who, despite all that love and encouragement stuff, are the most apt to make one feel inadequate and irritable… mostly because it’s harder to get away with constant inebriation when stuck in a car with them, and when driving I guess.

Right then, I’m off. See you later on.

Oh, and there’s some changes coming round here soon. Probably before I get back. I might not even come back. I might just abandon the project altogether and go off and do something interesting, and worthwhile…

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~ by Gethin A. Lynes on February 29th, 2012.

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