Nothing

[smokingboot]

A strange, slightly dark mood today. I am tempted to be myself this week, and myself isn't always very nice; I am undeniably moody. Last night I had a strange dream where a little white thread was tethered around my wrist like a bracelet. I cut it and heard a strange sound, like a quiet groan in another room, and to me it sounded like someone dying.

This may be because of all the death in the news, Terry Schiavo and the Pope and all that. Or it may be because a chum has asked me to bear witness to their living will. I have accepted of course - I do believe we have the right to dignity and decision over life and death - and my natural optimism believes it will never be necessary.

Nonetheless, today is an odd day. I would like to be in some beautiful gothic cemetary somewhere, but actually that wouldn't be good for me. I am going to go away now and find something cheerful to do. Normal service will be resumed once I have returned to the Pink.

Addendum: I don't need the Pink today. I need to write a horror story.

I have just read the above back to myself. The word 'strange' turns up three times in three sentences. That tells me something (apart from the limits of my vocabulary).