Been living in a bubble this week.
I’m full of bird flu fears, wondering if I should stock up on bottled water and canned goods… yes, that’s paranoia, folks. I’m thinking maybe I can create a harness that I can dangle out of the window so Billy can go toilet in mid-air.
At the same time I’m trying to enjoy the death throes of autumn, as winter seems to be trying hard to grab Berlin by the nuts.
Watching films is good (from the video shop I’d recommend the truly great Peter Sellers film Being There, and the chuckles-filled Harold And Kumar Go To White Castle; in the cinema, Dear Wendy, and if you can stand the annoying stoned students snorting with laughter at any old vaguely amusing visual gag, the new Wallace & Gromit film).
But this here bubble I’m in, it’s been a smoke-free bubble for a couple of days. My 3452367th attempt at quitting smoking fags is nearly 48 hours old. Quite frankly, the mood swings mean I want to kill you all; and were you to tempt me with a cigarette, I’d kill your children too. Grrr. Of course, that’s just the cold turkey talking…