Woke up at 4:32
It's beginning to be a real pain in the butt. Daren't take a sleeping pill mid-week.
The Boy's Brain. It could be anyone's really! Connections, flows and lacunae of thought. Certainly mine, and I'm 63. Rain to start the day. Come on, weather. Sot it out!
Mustn't grumble though; so much to do. The worst thing is chasing up tradesmen who refuse to get back to me, under instruction from Tucker Gardner. But I shouldn't have any positive expectations, should I?
Must try to scan some pictures from May and post them. As I've said before, I really need an assistant. He could pose for life-drawings as well as doing the donkey work of recording and posting on the various platforms I now use. They strike me as being like a high diving board. You can climb the ladder, but if you chicken out at the edge, the spectacular achievement cannot take place.
They are auctioning off the first viral video-clip. The world has already reached Hell in its handcart. And it'd be great if news organisations declared it a filthy outrage. Are the vast majority of the members of the human race knuckle-dragging Morlocks? That question is rhetorical, so don't pick me up on it.