P is in sPent

I'm fucked. I'm totally, utterly spent. All the posts you are reading today, I wrote on Friday.

It's Monday now, obviously. There's loads more that I have to write, or I want to write, or I should write.

I'm fecking shattered though. Stiggers is keeping me up all night again, which is ok, because she does come up with the odd good idea but I've got things to do and I must be getting on.

So let's just say yeah, that everything I am yet to post, all happened this weekend. That anything that has the remotest link to the Pomegranite, happened this weekend.

Some of it (you might have already read?) might sound abit biblical, abit loopy. Ne'er mind, I know we're not the Second Coming so it's cool.

You know what? I stopped writing The Book That Will Never Be Published after I was evicted. I was sooooo tired. I was soooooooooooo tired I slept for six months. No, I probably slept for longer that that. That's why I'll always be grateful to SureStart.