Hello there Sunday, thats a nice dress you're wearing!

Hey everyone, hope you're fine and dandy on this crisp Sunday evening. Can you see any stars? I certainly can't. Maybe they'll come a'twinklin' later eh?

So, something odd happened. I went out last night, crazy young hooligan that I am, and I had a canny time. Got a few sneaky little pints in my belly and had some laughs before I then decided I was tired and needed my bed. Of course, its never that simple and taxi's aren't cheap, so I waited a little while until my friend's taxi arrived (spot on time, by the way, I was impressed with that) and shared the billio. Next morning, THIS VERY MORNING, INFACT, I woke up, and holy hell, when I go out of bed, I fell straight back in. It seems I've done something to my knee, and putting pressur on it or bending it results in a loss of leg-power and a surge of fairly annoying pain. I remember every second of the night out and know for a fact I didn't smash my kne with any kind of hard, metal objects and such, so God knows whats going on. I've been hobbling about all day like Quazimodo - less than fun, I assure you.

I got a new book on Saturday too, its 'Brave New World' by Aldous Huxley. I'm writing aout dystopian novels formy A-Levels, and according tomy bat-shit-crazy teacher, it'll be a good read. So far, I've read the two introductions that were included i this here Vintage edition. Outlook is good. Another of the dystopian novels I've read for the sake of both my English studies and for the sheer crack of awesome books is 'The Road' by Cormac McCarthy, and that book ROCKS SO MUCH ARSEITS A LITERATURE-PIMP. Theres a film recetly been released hich I'll have to get as soon as its DVD'ed and then I'll tell you what I thought of it.

I thought I'd give you a very short extract of a short story I've written, since this post feels too short as it is. Its about an old dude who dies unhappy and can't go to Heaven until he understands why he was unhappy in life and until he accepts the truth of what really happened.

"A quick rush of colour took Edmond to a dark room, only for a second, but the sound of a muted squeal and the striking of skin told him all he needed to know. Another flash took him now to a park bench, where his mother sat with him in a pram. She cried, all alone with a young boy who didn’t understand staring at her, the look of infantile confusion upon his rosy cheeked face. When he she looked back at him, there was still love in her eyes.
Another flash, another room now. The heavens outside were raining down on the Earth, and Edmond’s mother sat with her two sons as they drew pictures of a sunny scene. They didn’t notice the bruise on her arm as she filled in the blue sky. Her smile was filled with love.
Forward again. The park once more and she was sitting at the bench watching her sons play football. They were engrossed, shouting for the other boys to pass, hoping with all their hearts for a goal, for the ecstasy of scoring. Her eyes were lost, they were somewhere else, and only came back when Edmond scored and looked to her for congratulations. The half-hearted smile and wave she sent to Edmond was lost on him, and he turned to receive pats on the back from his friends. She returned to her own world, rubbing her aching cheekbone."

And thats all for today, I hope you like the sound of the story, maybe let me know what you thought (if you have any means of doing so. If you're a stranger...hello there!)

Thanksaaa,
Glen.