i don't mind mondays.

funny how you start a little blog-o-rog, with the feeling that because it's online you will be more dutiful in your writing, and then a week passes and you have done nothing more than contemplate the idea of writing. how coy.

So here i am, ready to at least give the keyboard a little tap dance. Though of course, that is what i've been doing all day. But hawking product isn't quite the same as mocking and verbally gawking. Today i wrote wine descriptions. Nothing more satsifying than writing as an authority on something you have absolutely no authority on whatsoever. Like wine.

Sure, i dig wine. I like that it rolls down my throat like liquified twizzlers and slurs my mind into tipsy complacency -- but that kind of pap does not a wine sell. No, wine lovers are all about the fancy schmancy descriptors - the lingo. What i wrote today went something like this:


Voluptuous aromas of black currant and mocha precede a luscious palate of soft plum and cherry flavours. A perfect companion to roasts and grilled meats.

Not really sure what i am talking about there. Voluptuous companions normally suggest comely ladies in fishnets, not a tetra pak'd Shiraz. But whatever sells i suppose. Now if i was writing a wine description i could easily understand, it would go something like this:

Red in colour and wet to the tongue, this Shiraz has boozy undertones and bold down-and-out wino aromas. An excellent accompaniment to cigarettes.

Much more the point, wouldn't you say?

So writing and writing and all the exciting.

Work seems so much of a part of me lately that even when i write in the evenings, curled up in bed with a good (power)book, i am still dissecting things that happened in the 9-5 (or rather, 9-7) day. Ah well, i suppose that's natural. After all, i am doing what i want to do.

Writing silly for a living. Writing lilly for a siving.