the laughing gnome

I'm afraid that I feel as shit as I did yesterday. Actually I feel worse, because it's a day further... deeper... into this bullshit. Oh, yes, peppering my post with expletives leaves you in no doubt that I am tough and completely in control of this thing. Not. I'm not going to talk about it - as I said yesterday - talking reinforces and protracts it. It doesn't exist, and I am going to ignore it. So, let's talk about something else.

I mentioned a while back that I intended going to a night class. Well, I did indeed go, and the first one was last night. It was decidedly unnoteworthy. There was a little Scottish garden gnome, who works in a bookshop, and is doing a PhD in something Scottish-culture-ish (no sarcasm: good for him) who I was sorely tempted to stab in the leg with my pencil. Shut Up you boring little person. The fellow attendees were uninspiring, and conservative. The tutor, however, is interesting. If it wasn't for her I doubt I'd go back, but I am keen to return next week to see what she has to say.