some notes this morning

traduit; india ink on math paper, 9.5 x 6.5 inches.

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* Apparently, there is a hygienist in my dentist's office who rather likes country music, and once a week they set the radio to a country music station for her enjoyment. Today was that day. My dentist -- who would usually be humming along to the Scorpions or Heart -- sang 'Desperado' while he injected numbing agent into my gums. Even better, it was the Clint Black version (of Desperado, not the numbing agent) instead of the Eagles.

* Freezing in my face always makes me feel (a) sleepy and (b) like I have a harelip.

* Do you know how you can tell where the call centres are? Because there will always be a clutch of zombie-eyed smokers hanging around out front. Poor bastards.

* The other day, on the radio, they were talking about how women are underrepresented in magazine publishing. This made me laugh. If anything, I find literature is pretty much almost entirely in the female dominion -- they are the readers, the authors, the agents, the freelancers, the editors, the organizers of writing festivals ... hell, just do a quick count at a library on any given day. Yes there are still some old boys at the top but by and large their ship is sinking.

* Do you know who Karl Pilkington is? He's kind of the answer (the example, the symbol) to why men don't read. But he keeps a cracking good diary.

* There is a storm brewing today. It's the kind that looks a lot worse than it is: stinging sideways snow, sky the colour of dead wheat. This also makes me sleepy.

• I have a parcel sitting on the table in my studio. I'm saving it for Sunday (yes, I am weird that way). Based on who it's from, I fully expect it to contain Gwyneth Paltrow's head.