However, I am not Ian.

Sadly.

Except, no, not really sadly, because then I’d be far too narcissistic.

(Dude, I spelled that right on my first try.)

So, Ian wanted to update, but he has what we in the business (of lying) call “writers block.” Or laziness. You decide.

So, given free range over his diary, I will first make a shameless plug for my own.

READ! ADAMBESME! POSSIBLY RIGHT NOW! BECAUSE TECHNICALLY YOU ARE!

So, I realize that two entries for me doesn’t really interest anyone, so, in the spirit of the guest entry I’m doing, I will attempt to write like Ian.

Which means writing well, so, yes, that’s out of my grasp, but I’ll fumble nobly.

So, without further ado, (a suitably English word, don’t you think? Old chap?) here’s Adam as Ian.

___

My day was brill. I’m filled with this mountain air-influenced vigo(u)r, which totally washes away my stagnant English ennui like a cold mountain stream descending from the lofty snow covered peaks of my inner being and rushing over the weathered rocks of my daily existence with a swift, carefree joie de vivre, carrying away the chaff, leaving only the crystalline waters of my soul.

Hmm. Sorry, I can’t write anything beautiful, I need to be miserable, in my bedroom in England, with my cat, who, even though everyone in the world knows that cats hate everyone, I have deluded myself into thinking actually likes me. And she’s really ugly.

Did you know Adam’s cousins used to own a pet sloth? Now you do.

Oh, Diaryland, why have I forsaken you like a dusty-eyed Irish whore trying to slog her way through her new life on the East End, selling her body, each trick chipping off a corner of her heart, her soul, her mind. Each new day hoping for a reawakening, a Renaissance of self. But destined only to be dusted off in a fit of whimsy, admired for a brief moment by (currently) 25 admirers, and to have her disappear into the recesses of the mind, reminded of solely in a fleeting flash of red.

_______

Song I'm listening to right now: Something by Tori Amos which I claim is good, but is really crap, and I finally realize this, and give Adam permission to throw out my CDs of hers.

Last TV show watched: Something on MTV, because that’s all I ever watch, even when I’m on the phone.

Last meal ate: Something vegetarian that I claim is good, but really isn’t because I mean, come on, animals are DELICIOUS.

Reading: Little Big Man

Obsessed with: Uh, um, this is sure to be biased.