NOVEMBER IS ALL THAT STUFF FROM A MILLIONS

This weekend I moved all my shit into my flat, cleaned and sorted out my room, watched the movie above for research purposes, donated pubes to a friend's in-the-works poetry/art project (and will continue to do so til about mid-december), bought Panda a Christmas present that I'll have to mail him soon, did a teensy bit of Primark perusing and purchasing as a reward, went to a private member's BDSM club and discovered some really interesting shit, had a couple drinks and a laugh with some really interesting and fun people who I will be meeting up later this week for a drink, for the LAM (London Alternative Market) and after party, and for a workshop in Bondage put on by Bondage conoisseur Chanta Rose. I have been shortlisting people's creative entries for a Creative Writing Competition our school's putting on that I'm helping out with, entered two of my own pieces, went to see Tacit Theatre's latest production called Scaramouche Jones that I got into for free because I agreed to be the press and review it for their website, got piss drunk at the producer's flat and spent the night there, scrambled home early the next day to write an article on cocktails for Societe Magazine that was due the night before (but which since it's a mag based in the US, I just about made the deadline, being 8 hours ahead), searched in vain for a secondhand copy of Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress which I am supposed to read for tomorrow's class but for which I will just have to use my memory (read it in my pre-teens) and keep very quiet, bought a book on Buddhism and one on Hinduism and made very tasty risotto.

And now I have the flu. But I wrote this because I felt bad that my absence has approached the 7-day mark, and I still want you to read me. But I'm afraid, this week is going to be just as hectic as the last so posts will remain sporadic. I've got about 3 articles due this week, more competition entries to shortlist, class, work experience at Skin Two, severe reading, a fake birthday party to plan and the bizarre list goes meandering on, and on, like the fucking yellow brick road. So have a look at the blogs on my list, will you, until I return next.