A girl cannot live on tzatziki alone.

But there's no harm in trying.

As tempting as having someone eternally in my service sounds, I think even a black-hearted wench like me might have some twinges of conscience about the whole slavery-unto-death thing.

Just little ones, y'know.

I wrote a thousand words of the novel this afternoon.

I don't think anyone can understand truly just how much of a relief this is. I have been plagued by this seventh chapter since I finished chapter six at Christmas. Three months, people. Three months of trying, failing, trying again, beating my brains out, reworking, taking notes, rereworking, trying, and failing.

And when it works, it works. All of a sudden, I have a crown prince with personality, an extra thread of conspiracy and threat, and the introduction of a character some twenty chapters before I thought he was going to appear. All of this can only be good.

Plus, OMG I can still write. Thank fucking Christ. I was kinda starting to wonder, y'know?

The weather today was beautiful. It was gorgeous, clear, and warm right up to the minute I'm writing this. So gorgeous.

We picnicked in the park, grazing on tzatziki and baby octopus and grapes, watching half a dozen fellows playing topless frisbee. It was All Good.

This post dedicted to that bastard who declares I'm always whinging about the weather. Note lack of whinge. Thank you.

Pre, I've visited your site at least three times now, which to my reckoning means you owe me a Happy Meal, or at least one good stretch-and-sigh at the Brisbane version of Southbank, with an option on a declamation along the lines of: "Now that's what I call March."

(Also, you might be interested to know that something weird happened to your website when I flick into it from another window. Like, sections of entries are wiped out, only to reappear when I scroll up or down. Cue Twilight Zone theme and people asking me what platform/browser/colour coaxial cable I use.)

While in Canberra, I also tied our resident Top Security nerd to the chair, but he didn't let it cramp his style one bit.

Our government's finest, I tell you.

Ninja Burger!

And since I probably can't just not post for two weeks and then leave you with just two words:

I went to Canberra. We went clubbing. I got groped and smacked an old acquaintance in the nose by accident. These two things were not related.

An old school friend came down to visit. We saw a lot of art and a lot of second-hand books. She backed Jojo into a corner and beat him up, but was very apologetic about it afterwards.

I'm copy-editing a book on pathology. Everybody go and give blood right now.

But still. Ninja Burger!

The sky seems bigger in Canberra - fewer buildings getting in the way of its uninterrupted expanse - and the sun beats down like the cliched hammer on interior-Australian anvil.

It brings all the old lethargy boiling back. Maybe that's the relaxing company too. I like it here.

I just knocked the squirrel off my microphone.

Erudite communication, courtesy of Anfy and associates:

From: Anfy
Subject: yo!

nigger, i's in canberra as of thuddy morning, pulling out on snuday
evening. where's you at?

From: Sam

Sweet biatch!!!!!

I is also in this ho town Thursday till Sunday - I'm more available than
the sluts on main street, except for early Friday night.