British classics

Day 12. 120 pages, 55,558 words.

Today I’ve mostly been laughing at this:

Still a bit busy today, getting some writing done before it gets too hot. Going pretty well. The word-counts, as I confessed, are a bit fudged so it doesn’t really reflect what I’ve gotten done on this ridiculously hot and humid weekend, but it’s still going well.

Speaking of hot, how’s Brexit going? Let’s check in.

Hmm.

That’s going well too, obviously.

Okay, carry on.

*gallops off into the sunset, tapping coconut shells and humming Game of Thrones riff*

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy. https://hatboy.blog/2013/12/17/metalude-who-are-creepy-and-hatboy/
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