start. on the birthday of my country. but you can't really tell whilst indoors. the tv is on, and there's a matador doing his thing on the telly, interestingly i am playing candela by the buena vista social club on my mac. i remembered reading on the papers that ibrahim ferrer is dead.
still red here, red there. how festive.
i think i am overtly bored, or this inability to complete my submissions has finally gotten to me. Or as according to cy, my unconcious delight in seeing my own writings published has finally overcome my own belief that publishing is a vanity. maybe because i don't have to work today and the inactivity is actually silent murder. whatever the reason, i hope this is fun.
have been toying with the idea of starting a blog for some time now. even d was thinking of doing one, but i think he's got more things to worry about rather than blogging, ie. impending wedding. shall tell him about my blogging virginity break tonite at aggie's place.
i am to bring 2 tubs of plain vanilla ice cream as instructed by dom so he could play jamie oliver. i think my friends are watching too much telly.
listeningto: veinte anos by buena vista social club
comprehension: me no speaka spanish
tryingtoread: prospero's cell - lawrence durrell
probability of completion: too low
best line i thought of today: "We shall speak of nothing else."
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