I don't seem to be writing nearly as often as I was for a while. I could have been writing today, but I was completely absorbed in reading "Moab Is My Washpot." Er, Stephen Fry's autobiography, if I haven't already mentioned it. I think I have. I love it, totally love it. And from it I've gotten to the truth of the matter regarding his other book, "The Liar." I hadn't been sure whether to tell the woman at the bookstore that it was fiction or autobiography, when she was looking around for it for me. As it turns out it's one of those bastards; semi-autobiographical fiction. And I want it. grrr.... I'm never going to get back to reading "Psmith, Journalist" at this rate, with the huge Stephen Fry diversion. But, I might have a much better understanding of the strange mindset of boarding school boys who have sex with other boys but are terrified of queers because of the actual love factor.
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Not that you care about all my rambling on this because you haven't read "Mike," have you? Sorry. (Um, it's on Project Gutenberg, though, that's where I read it from.)