In one of those proverbial Turnips for Books (good to know they're herbivores), my mother has discovered this website. Hello, Mother! I have given her due warning that these little instances of Dee's brain rendered unto pixels frequently contain Language Unbefitting a Parent's Gaze, but she seems sanguine about the concept. This would be the part where the punchline is me launching into a full sentence of graphic and inventive obscenity.

Can't be arsed.

I do hope everyone's Christmasses (Christmae?) were suitably summed up in adjectives such as "merry", "happy" and "full of good food and interesting shenanigans". It's been a hot one up here, which is all anyone expects of Brisbane, I suppose. So sweltery yesterday that it stormed in the afternoon, with much bluster and grumble and even a little rain.

So beautiful. I recall anew that my purpose in writing The Novel (Boralos, for those following along at home, being a novel set in an advanced civilisation in a fantastical sort of south-east Asia/Africa) was nostalgia for the Wet Season, and for mangroves, fruit bats, humidity. A timely reminder, I'm sure, since this year coming I need to finish the bloody thing.

I am so sick and tired of knowing that this thing would be publishable if it were only finished.

There you go, the first New Year's Resolution in the history of Dee: FINISH THE BLOODY BOOK, YOU LAYABOUT BINT!