Last night, about three in the morning, I wrote another couple of paragraphs on the, "Vietnam Vet" story thread.
I reread what I'd written and was satisfied.
So why is it, not twelve hours after writing the piece, I read it again and found it stilted, two dimensional and so loaded with cliche that I almost physically cringed at some of the dialogue?
Am I that bad?
Or am I just tired and irritable?
Whatever, it stays as it is and I'll see how Tee gets on with it... he he he...
Nightshift tonight, and tomorrow and then two days off to do the grouting on my wall.
What a nice life I lead. I remember the days when two days off meant one day partying and one day recuperation.
Not anymore though, oh no. Nowadays it' go to work to earn money, to buy materials to do more work.
Where's the sense in that?
Where did my life go so suddenly wrong?
Oh, I remember, the birth of my twins.
I might just bin all this constant drudgery and labour and go to Thailand to open a bar.
A bar in Thailand with gogo girls and exotic ladies of the night, or Jamaica... no Jamaica sounds good. Chocolate coloured babes, long Bacardi fuelled nights and a house on the beach. Nah, my wife would kill me.
Or I'll open a bar in Ireland, the land of the setting Guinness.
No, even better, a bar in Hamburg, on the Reeperbahn. With drunken sailors making it with the ladies and making me rich in the process...
Oh sod it, I'll stay here and finish this bloody wall.