Today I wandered around the woods for two hours, singing Darren Criss songs to myself. I also woke up really late because I'd stayed up late working on my novel. Writing the novel is strange because it sounds really pretentious to talk about, but mostly it involves sitting in front of my computer staring off into space. And then what I do write is petty and boy crazy and not rooted in any kind of philosophical or literary idea. I don't think it's a particularly worthwhile book, but I think it's good, and I don't really understand this.
I've started watching The Hour. Ben Whishaw is so fricking attractive, it shouldn't be allowed. But I'm glad it is.
The day was short. Nothing springs to mind to talk about, and I don't want to ramble uninterestingly more than I already do, so I will close here.
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