Bad night and noisy morning, the seagulls pressing the corners of the aural landscape ever closer. Still, daylight is a wonderful adventure, full of sleepily optimistic ideas to be sifted through and discarded or embellished. It's always the same with these mental scribbles flashing through the velvety fuzz of semi-consciousness in the middle of the night. Wonderful abstract edifices rise up and colourful men and women pull themselves out of the prosaic sludge of the world to make themselves credible, only to open the curtains at daybreak and reveal the whole shambles as utter crap, as meaningless gab.
Still, at about 5:00am I did get a useful conversation, that has been able to brave today's morning sunshine, out of Wull Ritchie and Jimmy Fens, two guys from a Scottish story. Tonight, I hope that any afterthoughts on their part are continued in a whisper. I need to catch up on my sleep.
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