It is difficult to write about happiness. The story I am writing at the moment involves a period of contentment for the primary character. I have just written a short piece of this part of the story - it is very difficult to write of things you only know from second-hand accounts. I don't know if I will ever finish the story for precisely this reason. I have been listening to the same track on repeat for about three quarters of an hour now. Time to listen to the rest of the CD. Couples on the train again. How can I think happy thoughts when I am so down. I feel a Buffy quote coming on: "Excuse me, but could I borrow her?" It would be so amazing to sit there with an arm round her shoulder like that. Exchanging her for someone I genuinely cared for would be even better. Better than perfection? That would be pretty damn good. Feet distract me again. This time it is the bare feet of a total babe - not the brogued feet of a businessman. I need sleep. Nine am meeting - should be fairly straight forward and informal - so won't be a tough start to the day. Not long since I ate, but I am hungry again already. I am going to look into the window for a while.
Tuesday, 24 August 1999
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