The Novel

Work on the Novel is going ok. There is a minor hiccup: I wrote so much with pen, in three separate binder books, mostly on the bus on the way to work. Im having trouble reading my own writing, terribly bizarre, thought I would be used to it by 28 but the bus seems to have made it really bumpy and oooey.
Will be trying to get most of it onto softcopy, reminder to self: stop writing on bus.

Trains

Trains I love. Nowhere else, is such a disparate group of individuals required to sit together for at least five whole minutes between stops.

Theres something very socialist about trains. Or at least something very socialist if like Karl Marx was on board, nibbling the chairs.

Some deep satisfaction

Im listening to a song right now I can hardly understand and theres some deep satisfaction in this. Because, I know its a sad song as the gentleman seems to be whining along and the guitar strum is low.

But in my head I can make it about anything I like, and today that song, is about her.

Bon Iver: Re Stacks