What a life it could be, I'll wake you up at half past 3 with a lasagne.

Word up me homies.
In a break from blog-etiquette, today I am going to write about nice things that have happened to me. Y'see, I'm a believer in luck and karma. So I'll be thankful for the abundance of good things that have just happened in the last 24 hours. Having been a bit bored and lazy of late, suddenly, eveything's coming up roses.
The Amigos Project are interviewing me, with a view to having me as a volunteer.
Advice UK are doing a new project which might give me some skills.
I finished formatting 118 pages of script and just have to write my tail-end.
The workshop we're holding on Saturday seems to be going hunky-dory. Indeed, my friends have even set up a website for us.
I haven't taken a half-dose of my anti-depressants for 3 days, and am not suffering.
And I once again own Definitely Maybe, and have been listening to it.

The only dampening thing to happen today, was that my favourite author, had to leave work early cos her son, Jo (whose name I remembered) is ill.

The author in question is a colleague and friend, and joins Nick Hornby as the only person to have written TWO books which I have read. And both have been top-notch. In fact, I'd put Alper above Hornby cos I've already forgotten what it is about his books that I liked- thinking about it, nothing really happened in Fever Pitch and High Fidelity other than lots of pontificating. Still good though. Debi Alper, on the other hand, has written the only stories I've read with characters that I can properly empathise- socially-conscious people who are friends, who go to MayDay 2001, get trapped for ages and don't like it, who smoke weed and don't make a fuss about it or get 'damaged'. Who live in London, come from all over the world, and have sense of humour. And they have adventures, proper ones, with killings and dirty intrigue and everything.

There's always that problem of being able to separate a like of the person from appreciation of their work (I still remember thinking Madness' comeback single 'Lovestruck' was really good, because I liked them. Then, one day, I realised that it wasn't), so someone I know should really borrow a copy of the books from me, cos I reckon you'd all like them.

Authors who fell by the wayside during the second book:
Sartre- read Nausea, gave up on age of reason.
Michael Moore- Downsize This was the second book I ever read (after Fever Pitch), I gave up on every other (but did read a book he edited about his TV series).
Joseph Heller- read Catch 22, gave up on God Knows
Dickens- read Hard Times, wrote comparative bits with Xmas Carol for English GCSE in spite of not reading it.
Terry Pratchett- forget which, I tried to get into Discworld. Dickworld in my opinion.
Karl Marx- read the Manifesto, skimmed through the others for my degree.
Shakespeare- read Macbeth, bits of others.


Then there's a massive list of classics I started but turned out to be shit or boring. Again, if anyone knows of any authors I HAVE read twice (my brother might, but I dunno if he can post on my site), let me know.