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This is the weather the cuckoo likes, armored division submissive to vernacular the world into a gambling birdhouse velocity.

1600 last night and the third night in a row I've got 5 hours. At least it's a holding pattern, though the next couple of nights may well throw me off badly. Fortunately, they're the last stupid-early days I've got to do. This does mean I'll be vacating the pub early, though. I'm still going. I need a drink after today.

Just remembered that I need to finish Shattered City before I can let myself start on The Myth of Self. Let's see if that actually happens.

One thing I hate more than waking up early is waking up two minutes before the alarm clock goes off, not having enough energy to turn it off, and the hideous anticipation of when the comfortable silence will be shattered by the LOUD.

Unsure what exactly I'm saying. Think someone's taken a cut-up machine to my brain. Shouldn't be reading OTE on the bus...

Time for a fag

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