Dear Diary 27/11/09

To my ten wonderful disciples, I thought it time to re-engage you, to instil this blog with some vigour again. This I will do by disembarking entirely from my current splurge of gratuitous images, which I painstakingly downloaded through the days and nights located in the fusty darkness of my mi-goreng palace. My producer and I have parted (thank god!), and all I can say is that it has given me a new lease of life. I feel something terrific is on the horizon, if not closer. There are times when it bobs in front of me, like some family of ducks going on an outing, only to discover all too late that it is duck season and the future is both too clear and too hideous to continue, and the reality of the marksman, writhing, dithyrambic in the onset of angina in a solemn huddle of reeds, his dun eyes ranging once, now twice between the cruel sky and the now tolerably inviting darkness of the barrel not intended for that purpose (or was it?), is as lost on the retreating ducks as a scrambling finger on an inverted trigger. Aghhh! The agony, the thrill of it! Yes, I feel I am close. I can feel it! Watch this space friends, I am going outside.