Is your ctrl button furry?
I seem to do most of my thinking in the lavatory. I suppose this is because I'm focused on the job in hand (so to speak), but it doesn't require a level of concentration that prevents free thought. Unlike, it would seem , for my flatmate's boyfriend, who leaves little swirls of yellow all the way around the rim. Which is funny, as he always pees straight in the water (I know this, my bedroom is next to the loo, and once he's woken me up by slamming the door, I hear every last tinkle). Perhaps he has a "broken pipe" (hilarious IRC joke, haha).

What a way to start my first entry. This journal is supposed to help me develop my creative writing skills (whatever the hell that means), but it's going to just be a kind of abstract diary, I expect. Maybe occasionally there'll be some free verse, the odd epic saga or two, a song! a dance!, you know the kind of thing. I wonder though.

No first entry would be complete without massive props and thanks to Mandee May, who set me up with this whole caboodle. What a swell laydee.