Little Black Book.

There's a mosquito flying through my room right now. I can only hazard a guess that she's after my blood. I mean it is feeding time and I have blood that tastes like the sweetest scarlet nectar. It's the Oros to mosquitoes. It's the Rolls Royce of mosquito feed. It's top tier 5 Michelin star fare.

I've been meaning to get myself a little black book where I can write all my strange thoughts and notions. People have been writing down their thoughts since the first caveman realised a buffalo bone could leave a mark on a rock face. People have been jotting things down for millennia, regardless of what it is. It doesn't really matter what you have to say, whether you're telling the future or just writing about a silly satan creature trying to suck your blood. Basically I just wanted something to take the place of a blog.

Having a blog is great and all. I mean I've kept this thing for years now. I haven't been as great as I once was it keeping it running but I've made an effort here or there. Having a little diary of sorts though would be epic. There's just something about writing words on page that really is freeing. I hate sounding cliche but it is true. Sometimes when I find myself with nothing to do I'll get out my exam pad and just write. I have no set plan or anything, I just free flow until my hand is tired or something else calls for my attention. Typing things out is nothing quite like it. I sometimes sit in front of my computer trying to find things to say and they all cling to the dark corners of my mind, hiding from the spot light of attention that is trying to bring the out onto those plastic keys. Give me a pen and words will fight over one another to be next down that ink-filled tube, to be neatly laid out on that lined bed of paper.

These days I guess I've just been feeling like doing things the old school way isn't so bad. I know a little black book will steal away from what comes up here but if I do happen to pen a gem, it's not like I could ever stop it finding its way here. I love myself too much to deprive myself the pleasure of going over this years from now and being like, "Waaaay, I wrote that".

I've chased the mosquito away with a desk fan. My genius knows no bounds.