Right, ok, now that ive finished writing non stop about Film Noir for a month and dealt with the copious social problems that this entials (seeing phallic symbols everywhere, putting up venetian blinds, chewing toothpicks, trusting no one and perpetually wondering if I'm being followed), i can finally put up the closest bad pic of myself and start on the journal lark for real. Yay.

Home now for the easter vac and, since my coffers overfloweth, i dont need to get a job and can concentrate on revision and on getting into shape. If i achieve either, or even half of one in the next 6 weeks then i will be pleased with my newfound dilligence and persevering character. Fat (and unrevised) chance!

WALES WON THE RUGBY! I spent the whole day feeling pleased to be welsh and sending taunting emails to all and sundry. It's good that the Welsh finally have a comeback to the inevitable putdowns at last, at least for a while.

Came home to find my sister's band have become somewhat successful. Baby Pancakes seem to be slowly conquering the city, and have had polygram or someone beating down the door. I always wished i could write songs, but ive got about as much musical nous as the average seagull, so it is definately not to be. I'll stick to writing, instead. At the moment I'm working on a rewrite of Dr Faustus, with Faustus himself as a precocious undergraduate and Mephistophilis as a shapeshifting, wisecracking uber-demon. I'm not religious at all, so I'm trying to make points about why the belief in a soul, or in some kind of deep personal value, is necessary. In the end, your soul is only a factor of confidence and self-belief anyway, or is it more than that?

Lucifer in "Charlie Faustus" is a weedy welshman in a security guard's uniform that has seen better days. Hell is black and white, and not particularly threatening, just a plain or desert that goes into the distance up to the horizon. Hell is loneliness and a...

Right, ok, now that ive finished writing non stop about Film Noir for a month and dealt with the copious social problems that this entials (seeing phallic symbols everywhere, putting up venetian blinds, chewing toothpicks, trusting no one and perpetually wondering if I'm being followed), i can finally put up the closest bad pic of myself and start on the journal lark for real. Yay.

Home now for the easter vac and, since my coffers overfloweth, i dont need to get a job and can concentrate on revision and on getting into shape. If i achieve either, or even half of one in the next 6 weeks then i will be pleased with my newfound dilligence and persevering character. Fat (and unrevised) chance!

WALES WON THE RUGBY! I spent the whole day feeling pleased to be welsh and sending taunting emails to all and sundry. It's good that the Welsh finally have a comeback to the inevitable putdowns at last, at least for a while.

Came home to find my sister's band have become somewhat successful. Baby Pancakes seem to be slowly conquering the city, and have had polygram or someone beating down the door. I always wished i could write songs, but ive got about as much musical nous as the average seagull, so it is definately not to be. I'll stick to writing, instead. At the moment I'm working on a rewrite of Dr Faustus, with Faustus himself as a precocious undergraduate and Mephistophilis as a shapeshifting, wisecracking uber-demon. I'm not religious at all, so I'm trying to make points about why the belief in a soul, or in some kind of deep personal value, is necessary. In the end, your soul is only a factor of confidence and self-belief anyway, or is it more than that?

Lucifer in "Charlie Faustus" is a weedy welshman in a security guard's uniform that has seen better days. Hell is black and white, and not particularly threatening, just a plain or desert that goes into the distance up to the horizon. Hell is loneliness and a kind of negative solitude, what some would consider 'soul-searching' writ large. As mephisto puts it, "some guy once said 'Hell is other people.' well, he couldn't have been more wrong."

Enough blathering on my current project. I'll probably consign it to the work in progress draw eventually anyway where it can rot with the biopic, the sci-fi, the novel and all the bloody awful poetry. I want to write something i can sell, sell to america for big money.

Have decided to use this diary to just be honest with myself in and see what people think. As such i'm sure I'll be posting again soon when i feel the need to drop words into the void (which seems to be full of very kind people, at least so far... thanks ).