Work, Work, Work, Work, Work, Work, Work, Work. Repeat till the page is full.

[Inspired of course from Humbert Humbert: ‘Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita, Lolita. Repeat till the page is full’.]

How come when he said it, it was so full of all breathless, visceral pain and sour-sweetness of yearning? My version sounds like the hoarse rattling of a battered old car that refuses to start?

Maybe because work weighs my shoulder down, a straggling millstone. It’s got a life of its own I tell you, these drafts that I am working on. Every morning when I wake up, they would have readjusted themselves to suit strange whims.

Fancy that.

Over the weekend, 2 very different movies. Woody Allen convinced me that Luck plays a bigger role in peoples lives than they care to admit.Matchpoint had a noir-ish quality that surprisingly sucks you in. Dark passions, a very hot Scarlett Johansen and big doses of luck.

Brokeback Mountain , a haunting lyrical beauty that took my breath away. How many of us find a love that fits like a snug glove and becomes an imperceptible part of ourselves? Ennis and Jack had that.