(diaryland) July 31, 2001 - 2:24 p.m.

Diary, you rock. You really do. I know it�s because of me.

There is Martika playing on the radio at work right now. I fucking loved Martika. I�ve heard she�s coming back very soon. For the eighties, she had tasteful hair. You can�t say that about many people.

Speaking of work, I�m about to do a tie-in right about now.

At home, I like to produce pictures that have a lot of black, a lot of grey, and a wee bit of white. You might have seen them. At work, though, I am the colour queen. You give me a drawing of a building, and I will turn it into a moving epic of chance meetings in deserted cornfields, a vivid display of heart-rending romance novel in a basilica, a gentle breeze on the Alps. In short, I can colour in good, man.

This is because I quite enjoy colouring things in. It�s much more interesting than drawing a cross-section through a bunch of metal on the computer. I will spend a whole day on a drawing to make it do that coming alive thing that pictures are quite liable to do. See, I�ve discovered this thing. This thing I�ve discovered is that in order to have more fun at work, you must try very very hard at the things you like doing, and then be really bad at the things you don�t like doing, even if in reality, you�re actually quite good at them.

I�m guessing this piece of invaluable knowledge has probably popped up in everyone else�s minds already and I�m a bit slow on the uptake. It�s a bit like the time when I was small and thought, �Hey! What if someone on a cloud in the sky is just DREAMING my life and it�s not actually happening at all? Woah!� and then later realised that everyone thinks this now and then and it�s even mentioned in bloody Hamlet.