if it's loudly sung

Okay, I'm on top of my work enough that I think I can break my hiatus a few days early. I need to lug my baby teapot to the library and spend some quality time with Blumenfeld (my current best friend) this afternoon, but I'm feeling more in control.

Quick life update!

Currently listening to: the new Metric album, and ENORMOUS amounts of musicals.

Currently reading: Gao Xingjian's One Man's Bible, and a book of short stories by Saadat Hasan Manto.

Currently writing: my History Boys fic, which is SO CLOSE to being finished, but still. . .refuses to be finished. I think I might hole up tonight with some white wine and pogrebin's HP fics, which is usually a failsafe combination when it comes to getting the words flowing.

the siren sings / meltingly of water

I went shopping with the express intent of buying wine, but somehow I ended up with two books instead. THAT WAS NOT THE PLAN, SELF.

(However, no force on earth could have prevented me from buying a secondhand copy of Auden's For The Time Being, because one of the two poems in the book is The Sea & The Mirror. And I also picked up Glen Duncan's The Bloodstone Papers which I am thoroughly enjoying after only a couple of chapters. I hadn't realised before that he's from an Anglo-Indian background, and I think the book is a semi-fictional account of his family's life. I have a soft spot for Glen Duncan in general because we share an unwise enthusiasm for adjectives; he just uses them more effectively than I do.)

And then I was gifted with a bottle of nominally undrinkable wine by a college friend, and am currently ploughing through my fic with the devil-may-care attitude of someone who has written 7585 words and has no real desire to write any more but has nevertheless been adequately lubricated with mediocre alcohol.

arhgjfhksdzsjkfask

8096 words.

Not done yet.

SHUT. THE FUCK. UP. DAKIN.

Also: this is maybe the dirtiest thing I've ever written and I don't know how that happened.