The last few entries on this blog are written as though I consider the human race (Ukraine, U.S., Uganda, etc.) redeemable. This isn’t actually the case. Just so there’s no confusion.
And I’m all alone and bored. Was going to make it out to the festival today, especially since Cousin Solomia was performing, but bad wather and family travails got in the way, as always. Am mixing cocktails on the balcony. If you want to join me, you ought to have my number.
So let me just relate this little anecdote: In rural Hungary, at 2 in the morning, we had to stop and ask a prostitute for directions. I kept waiting for her pimp to jump out from behind some shrub and kill us all. She was nice, and she didn’t have to be, and it madeContinue reading “Internet cafes cost a fortune”
… And am finding things to be stressed out about. Even here. Something is clearly wrong with me. That’s all for now.
Inspired by LitLove. 1. I absolutely hate people who excuse writerly misdeeds by pointing out “but s/he’s an artist!” So bloody what? So because you’re an “artist,” as opposed to, say, a plumber, it’s OK to be perpetually drunk and pretentious and annoying? No! Doesn’t mean I’m never drunk or pretentious or annoying – butContinue reading “7 Points About Writing”