I’ve been meaning to post this for a few weeks now, but kept getting distracted. Anyway, I stumbled upon this interesting 30-question ‘words we all misuse’ quiz:
It’s pretty pedantic, but I rather expect that from a quiz that is basically intended to make you feel all linguistically superior. Question 7 pokes fun at Alanis Morisette – like so many have done before – by pointing out that most of the things in her hit ‘Ironic’ are anything but ironic. There’s the good old ‘then-than’ and ‘they’re/there’ mix-up. I breezed my way through faultlessly.
Until I got to question 23…
This week’s question, while intriguing, is sort of impossible to answer: Would you rather write one book that is hugely popular or many books with little recognition?
The issue with this question is that I pretty much have to default to option two, since I have already written and published three books. That isn’t many, but the fact remains that if one of them (presumably the first one) ever went stellar, by logic the other ones would soar as well.
Before I start, I want to share this:
Ignore the static picture, it’s just the song. It’s fecking awesome and one of my all-time favourites.
This has absolutely nothing to do with today’s question, but I felt like I had to share.
This caught my eye in my daily Metro newspaper this week:
It really warmed my heart, because if I had four million quid to spare, this is exactly what I would do with it.
A number of years ago I made the decision to stop donating to human charities, because I am a (not-so-closet) misanthrope and am of the belief that humans are not worth spending money on. I feel this way in a large part because we are fucking up our planet at an ever-accelerating rate, and in the process of doing so we’re trampling over every single animal that comes in our path. Tigers? Hey, let’s kill them all for ‘medicines’ which never did and never will work. Rhinos? I hear powdered rhino horn gives you the most amazing sexual prowess! Elephants? Dude, I really need some ivory ornaments in my home, because that picture from Ikea just doesn’t cut it. Lions? Let’s go hunting!
Instead, any charity money I spend goes on animal charities. Specifically to the WWF, specifically for tiger conservation, and I also support the RSPCA, specifically for cat rescue pods. Animals need protection from humans, because if you’re fucking up a human they can at least shout at you for doing so, or ask you why the fuck you’re being such a twat. Animals can’t, so they need all the protection we can give them.*
So there you go, well done to you, Leo, you’re my hero of the week.
*Except pandas. Fuck pandas.
I went to bed as normal last night, but woke up at 1am with the most horrific toothache. It seemed to bounce all around the right side of my head, centering mostly in my middle bottom molar, but generously affecting most of my other molars as well.
Now, I was kind of expecting something like this to happen. I had a filling done in my top right wisdom tooth two weeks ago, and everything felt a bit tender since then. Still, I wasn’t expecting the bottom tooth to be the problem.
Well, it wasn’t. Snagged an emergency dentist appointment at 11.30 and the dentist took three x-rays trying to get a good look at the wisdom tooth (without success), after which she said she was 99% sure it was the wisdom tooth that was the problem, and the fact that all my other teeth were hurting was just a case of referred pain. She gave me the usual options of refilling, drilling out the root, extracting, blah, but I was pretty much lying there going ‘Wah, anything! Just make the pain go awayyyyyy, please!’ so she ended up extracting it.
I must say that when I went to bed last night, I wasn’t expecting to finish today with one tooth less. And everything’s tasted of blood all day. I don’t like the taste of my own blood…
I think I’m going to keep this week’s reply pretty short, since I’m not sure how much I have to say on this matter. The question is Barring a zombie apocalypse, is there anything that could make you stop writing?
Which has a very simple answer: sure, if I run out of stories to tell.