Dreams fade in a plume of ash...

I've been quite busy in recent weeks, largely with matters that would essentially bore you to sleep, in other words work and the like. My recent disappearance from the blogging scene co-incided with a disappearance from the social scene, as other commitments (and namely a girl, whom I'll discuss in other posts) have enveloped my life and engulfed up my free time like a cloud of ash rushing towards England.

Yeah, I'm pissed off at the ash cloud. I've been looking forward to a weekend in Florence for weeks, and now it looks almost certain to flop. Yeah I can re-book it, but it doesn't take the bitter taste out of my mouth.

I end up wanting to grab my PC at work and throw it out the window, urinate on the walls, spit in the face of anyone who remarks at my actions and walk long into the distance with dreams of becoming a world renowned writer.

I've not written much in recent weeks, and instead of writing I end up dreaming of what I'd say on chat shows and in press conferences about my latest books. Turning up at gala events with a celebrity by my side, and running as far away from my currenct existence as possible.

As I chase my dreams in my mind, the dream itself seeps away. It's always been like this, wanting to be the greatest without doing any work to get there.

I haven't played poker in months at least, and I'm truly pleased to be free from the shackles of spending 12 hours on a Saturday playing 20 MTTs on stars and busting busting busting min cash bust bust bust fuck fuck fuck, sunday comes, ok more more more, sunday goes, and Monday...Monday brings death of the soul.

"How was your weekend?"

I'd lie of course, what kind of person spends a weekend in-doors playing poker. A person like me. I escaped, but replaced the vice with others.

Thats enough for today, please let me somehow get to florence....