| |
[Sep. 5th, 2009|01:34 pm] |
Something about life here
is a little like being
a ghost, or a cockroach: you
can go wherever you like without a
passport or papers of any
kind, and nobody arrests you,
though sometimes you end up in a
gutter or garbage can.
I was a ghost for
a little while, once, after
one of my bodies died. It
was rather unnerving. Anyway,
I have gone back to my old ways, writing
for my bread, literally.
France didn't care for me much but Dublin
has me doing well enough. I tried to
sell my column called A Bug's Life but
some bloke named Iger
tried to sue me -
copyright infringement or
unlicensed use of trademarked... something.
I am trying to think of a new name... |
|
|
| |
[Aug. 31st, 2009|04:34 pm] |
Who would ever have thought
that the only way I'd finally be human again
would be thanks to an atmospheric disturbance?
It is SO WONDERFUL to be able to use capital letters and punctuation...! |
|
|