under another sun

Short fuse Another day in my old agency - speeding about working on scraps of urgent stuff, with two art directors I'd never been partnered with before: Bee and Lana. Feeling slightly out of control with lots to do. Lots of stress about the place - but I managed to maintain a reasonably good equilibrium. Train draggy and late getting home. Home to rejections for my pamphlet project: one company has restricted its list to books of quotations, and the other already has a publication lined up specifically for Valentine's day. Good to get fast feedback though, and can send them off again as soon as I get a minute. The evening, however, much better. I met up with new literary pal Alison and went to a short story event in the Komedia appropriately called (considering the day I'd had) Short Fuse. Six stories, and all but one read by the writer. A high standard and a wide variety of material. Enjoying the unusual ideas that popped up, such as reading Homer to your cat. And a brilli...

Taking no prisoners On quite a short fuse today and I noticed that most people I encountered seemed to be in the wrong. Work difficult because of this, but I had a couple of fast and incisive ideas this morning which made the rest of the day tolerable. Stood in the bank for 40 minutes this lunchtime waiting to be served. People exploding with irritation and berating the staff though not me. Took my laptop on the train to reassemble my poems and other writing from various sources. Still prone to stabs of rage about this. And on this note, once home, I was unable to find the knife I bought in France a few years ago (and dubbed "Mortel" by Anton) so presume this was also stolen. Spoke briefly to Remo when I got home, and sat about ineffectually trying to organise stuff. Another profoundly Mondayish Monday. I need a plan.