How much of a fuck up am I? Let me count the ways. First, and as much as I don’t want to, I’m going to have to give back the computer that I stole to the people who I stole it from. This will not only leave me without a computer, it will also restrict my ability to earn enough money to buy a new computer because the money that I am earning at the moment (although no-one appears to be paying me) is being made using this stolen computer. Not good.
Second, I’m about to spend a week starving myself of sleep. From tomorrow, I’ll be following the superman sleep cycle – 20 minutes sleep every four hours – to see if I can create more time in order to do the alarming amount of work that I have on at the moment (an alarming amount of work that, if I’m being honest, I spend an alarming amount of time trying to dodge). I’ve sold the idea to a newspaper who are prepared to pay me quite a lot of money to write about my experience. This is fuck up number three: for the last few days I’ve avoided opening the uncomfortably depressing Writers’ & Artists’ Yearbook as I’ve been pitching a few newspapers ideas that are clearly not suitable for my fragile mind.
Oh well, at least I’ll have the money soon to buy a new computer. I won’t buy one of course, I’ll spend all the money on drugs and exotic meals, but for a moment or two I will be able to.