Well, there isn't much in the way of news to be had, but for the three or four people who actually read this, I'm sure I can find some. You rabid readers will get what you pay for... next to nothing.

I bought a book today. It's called On Writing and it was written by Stephen King. I like King, even though his books scare the shit out of me. After the Shining I haven't been able to look at hedge animals the same... but I think it's because he scares me that I like him so much. It takes alot of talent and flair to scare a person using only words printed on paper.

Anyway, I've been reading it. It's sort of an autobiography, but it's not. I'm up to the part where he's a child and he went to the toilet in the forest and wiped his arse with poison ivy. He's trying to make us understand how such a disturbing writer was cultivated, and I've gotta admit - if I wiped my arse with poison ivy I'd be a litte disturbed too.