Differenting me

Yes, another self-indulgent rambling post. Well, it's sunny outside and I'm stuck indoors, so it's this or make a scale model of Ann Widdecombe out of carpet fluff and some strange sticky things I found under the fridge. I think they used to be cloves of garlic... And why am I stuck indoors on a blisteringly sunny day? Because my new antibiotics list amongst their many side effects: vampirism. Yup, I step out into the naked light of the sun and WHOOOOPH! I go up like a petrol-soaked teddy bear. All I need now are the big pointy teeth and a collection of nubile virgins and I'm hot to trot. But I digress.

After yesterday's post about the Subterranean magazine coming out, someone got in touch to say: "don't you think you might be lossing touch with your reality..." and "...The laste bloog has the making of a premadona pride befor a fall. I'm only writing bercause I thing your good and you may be loosing touch with your roots" Now I should point out that I don't think this is a malicious comment -- and believe me I'm getting enough really nasty ones to be able to tell the difference -- everyone's entitled to their opinion, so no flying off the handle in the comments on my behalf, OK?

Which got me thinking: have I changed? I'd thought yesterday's post had more than a touch of the tongue in its cheek, but I've been wrong before. Have I lost touch?

Well, in the interests of keepin' it real, today I'm wearing baggy-arsed jeans and a backwards baseball cap. Well, OK, so I am wearing a baseball cap, but it's on the right way round to keep the sun, streaming through the window out of my Christopher Lee eyes. Seriously people -- if you can't tell which side of your head the pointy bit of a baseball cap's supposed to go, get help! Front! IT FACES THE FRONT! Now, I'll give you some leeway -- you can wear it backwards if you're doing something where the sun's behind you and you need to keep your neck from spontaneously combusting, but wouldn't it be better to put the hat on the right way round and tuck a hanky under the rim at the back? This has the added bonus that you can pretend you're in the French Foreign Legion and can run around shouting things like 'Courage mon brave!' and 'Mon Dieu!' which is always fun. Otherwise you just look like you got dressed in the dark.

Where was I? Ah, right: have I changed? Looking back on it, I'm a lot happier now than I was when I started out a year ago. I'm a lot less shy; I'll talk to pretty much anyone now, whether they like it or not. I'm a lot easier to live with too -- according to She Who Must Put Up With The Bearded Twit -- easier than I was when I was doing proper work for a living, anyway. Yes, there are the occasional bouts of writerly euphoria, despondency and paranoia that would make a bipolar coke-monkey proud, but other than that I'm pretty good.

So yes, I've changed.

Next stop: snorting controlled substances off of naked groupies.