Oh la la ... I want you as entertainer of beautiful and exciting long messages-slash-literary! You dream over the words ... Post funny pictures where my face is not to his advantage ... I feel like writing! I quote my teacher: "In writing that one learns to write." Exactly ... is of novels, short stories that I want to write you. I have lots of ideas!
I see a man walking on the desert campus. He limps a funny way. It takes me a desire to describe his approach very carefully, in a page. Not easy.
I think an erotic novel, and I poetizes. I create images: the girl's mouth as deep as the night. It's almost beautiful.
At the hotel where I am replacing, I prepare a book of short stories involving scabrous receptionists and maids: one wears an arm torn and sutured, and a pretext for aggression dog. Yet the window of the basement is broken and the injury to his arm does not look like a bite. Another daughter is schizophrenic and nymphomaniac. It brings the guys at the hotel and sleep with them in empty rooms, and then again without changing the bed sheets covered sperm. Two women hate about a shady history involving a client, and each has a very different story: that belief?
Me not steal my ideas here! I can show you the brain-stormer consistently. Because my notes to me are pretty chaotic ...
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I'm gone spend four days in St-Armand. We happily got out of Quebec under a beautiful sun, and it is with sadness that we left the Montérégie in the rain. Weather morale, say Facebook. Chez Papa-Maman, a French course occupies in my room. That fact that Tom and I were dealing that of Jobe. Jobe and inherited the futon in the living room. Those who know my house know that sleeping in the middle of our show is as funny as sleeping without a tent in the middle of a freeway, mosquitoes bonus. Fortunately for Jobe was that for one night, we set off again the day after his arrival.
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It's summer! I have a stack of a dozen books waiting to be read for my sake. I had time to read two before my teacher sent me to the work plan for my summer courses. The holiday will not last long ... tomorrow, I plunge into the Franco-Acadian literature. In Program: 9 to read novels, three movies to see, four reflections of 3 pages, 10 pages of analysis, and an oral presentation. Mouaip ... Fortunately, that job is pretty dead (no pun flat) and I have time to read ...
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And then you people? How are you? (This is probably my most ugly conclusion to life ...)
