Sunday, 23 November 2008


I spent my Sunday in the library today. I've got three essays to hand in at the beginning of December (Merry freaking Advent) and they're hysterically long, and I'm hilariously crap at writing essays. Each word I type is accompanied by a tear splashing on the keyboard, each footnote by a spray of blood from my wounded brain. I've written 2000 out of 8000 words so far.

And somehow, in the midst of all that, I've got to write my story about a panda called Graham. How am I suppose to find the time? Between facebook and writing this blog, I'm a very busy man, and frankly I'd like them to take that into account when they mark my essays. I could've been doing something more productive, like waxing my fish, or searching for nude pictures of Esther Rantzen.

Something I've noticed while doing this work (it's on Descartes mostly, in case you care) is my brains ability to remember things I don't need to remember, while it happily ignores anything that might help my survival. I don't remember what Descartes said about the dualism of mind and body, but I can tell you that porcupines float in water.


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