Inane Thoughts: Diary of a Frustrated Writer

Five days into my blogging extravaganza and already I’ve missed a day. I will now pretend that these solipsistic outpourings were only ever meant to be written sporadically.

As I look out my window I can see the ever-decreasing snowfall on the ground, slowly retreating and being replaced by an ice sheet. The good news is that this allows me with good conscience to abandon the marathon training (I’m running the London Marathon in April 2011) and to sit down with a good book and several cups of tea.

Unfortunately, I have so far read only 31 pages of my book, as I have been distracted by reading the paper (worthy enough, as it’s the Observer), by cleaning the flat (vaguely necessary) and watching the IT Crowd (funny, but not taxing on the grey cells). Worst of all, in this sense of intellectual ennui, is that the book I’m not really reading is one that I’ve picked up, because I’ve put down War & Peace due to it being “too heavy to carry on the train”. Does this make me an indolent philistine? Yes, yes it does, the voice in my head tells me. Why does the voice in my head have to be a particularly cynical Will Self? It’s very annoying. Much more annoying than the real Will Self, who is actually very funny, particularly when making Richard Littlejohn look/sound a fool on radio.

Well, my conscience is telling me to get back to my book. My sense of reality tells me that I’ll be making tea and checking twitter within 23 minutes.

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