Half Past Two In The Morning

I am currently eating dry cereal because I have run out of milk. I have no other food left.

Actually I have plenty of food.

But it is all in tins.

I've had it for months.

But I have no tin opener.

Keep dropping cereal down my front.

Why am I awake at this ridiculous time of the night/morning?

It will be 5am before I even think of going to bed.

I have to meet Haley at college for midday tomorrow.

I should really start my disertation. It's due in in 21 days.

How do you spell Disertation? Is it one S or two? Neither seem right.

I have done no research.

I have to get Tim amd Deb to sing down the phone at my brother.

Tim didn't like me bragging at him about how England lost.

I have to find a couple of Rapier's from somewhere.

Not an easy thing to find, rapier's.

But possibly easier than basket swords.

Whatever possessed me to think producing and directing Hamlet would be easy?

Damn, run out of cereal.

Now I'm going to get hungry.

Bed would be a good idea.

Except I've been sleeping on the floor for the past fortnight.

Using a beanbag as a pillow.

The superbowl on telly. Why?

Americans should learn how to play Rugby.

That's without padding and helmets, and much more physical.

Silverboots should be elected God.

Definitely no more cereal, just crumbs.

What is beauty and why does it exist?

Is it an invention of our brains?

Or was it created by God?

That is my dis(s)ertation, and how to relate it to theatre.

Because no one else has done that before.

Why did I decide that I wished to reinvent the performing arts?

Especially at 3am in the morning.

Patriots winning the superbowl. I don't care. I don't even understand what they are doing.

I wonder if great Americans like Tennesse Williams, John Steinbeck, Arthur Miller, Ernest Hemingway, cared about American Football.

I wonder why eagles don't eat frogs, probably too small.

What the hell am I doing?