Blimey
Nobody told me there'd be days like these. Nobody could have predicted what I see before me.
Random Wibble from a Textually Loquacious Word Freak
posted by Clare at 6:56 PM
I’m a freelance writer, I’ve just written my second novel, and I can hold seventeen pencils under each breast. During my 37 years on this planet I’ve been a Scrabble fanatic, a trapeze artist, a maths and philosophy graduate, a cleaner, a revolutionary socialist, a hedonist, a lesbian vegetarian women-only workers’ co-op member and a meat-eating heterosexual computer programmer. I live in inner city Manchester, in a decrepit house with bits of old ship in the cellar, a dismembered shop dummy in the garden, a child on the sofa and a journalist in the bed. I once went to trapeze lessons for a whole year. I loved being upside down and in the sky, but I wasn’t very good at it. I was never really a trapeze artist. An interview with me. Me Me Me Me Me.
1 Comments:
OK, come on, make us wait some more.
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