Clucking away...

Well, that was a fantastically fun (read: soul-shrinkingly miserable) weekend.

I truly experienced the greatest professional joys (read: drowning in a glorious puddle of failure) and made en effort to enjoy the lovely weather (read: sulked and moped around the house and ate shitty food while watching shitty TV).

For now, I haven't so much pulled myself out of the water so much as have grasped part of the riverbank and am gasping for breath.

Yet despite four or five days of depression, fear, anxiety and general surliness, I seem to have emerged feeling angry and motivated. "You WILL accept me into the publishing world. You WILL hand me cheques that will enable me to pay rent and bills. You WILL acknowledge me.")

Mmmm... denial. It is truly a happy land when I feel the world ignores me.


And to go on a totally different tangent -- I found myself watching the second and third episodes of Star Wars this evening (I can't sit through Episode I without retching, although neither II nor III are particularly palatable)... and when the end credits came up, all I could hear was cluck-singing a la Robot Chicken.

Strange.