I was up at five this morning. Intentionally, which is strange. I had a conversation yesterday which let me wander back down that awkward little garden path of memory to the time I came home from Europe, and, with no work for two weeks and jet lag, I was awake every morning at 5 am. I got so much writing done before the rest of the house even woke up.


So this morning, I woke up, wrote about 800 words, and here I sit. Not too shabby, considering I’m not even usually up by this time on a Saturday. Your head enters a weird place when its overtired. Most times you’re too tired to do anything, but in the morning you feel like you should be waking up, so it’s… bizarre. Perfect for being creative, if you can concentrate.

Perhaps I will get a lot more done before Canzine West this afternoon and the NPODW party tonight!