Taking my walk along rue de Rivoli as it becomes rue Saint Antoine I saw a sad sight. Le Jean Bart with extensive fire damage. The very distinct smell of a building on fire always reminds me of the day our house caught fire- actually my chidhood home caught on fire two seperate occassions, same room (mine) and both times on my birthday...and that is how I turned the sad story about Le Jean Bart into a story about me. YEA ME!









Kelly is on her way to London today and will be there through-out the weekend. There is a transit strike which,...well quite frankly doesn't effect me one way or the other but I am prepared to turn those lemons into lemonade. This weekend I write! Write, write, write. The story I'm working on is slow going and I have been second guessing myself- i think it might be a bit too serious and serious may not be my forte. It's a fiction piece- as much as a first novel can be fiction. The main character decides his life is without meaning he drinks, and engages in other activeties which numb him to reality. He loses everything as a result of his self destructive behavior and, as a result, has a spiritual awakening which leads to him quitting his life/ job and moving to someplace...say...oh I don't know...maybe Paris. So really when I call it a work of fiction I really mean I changed a few names and monkeyed with the dates. My focus these next few days is to get back on track with the story. Although, as I read what I just wrote, I may have just completed my first novel- strange...I thought it would be longer. YEA ME!!!!!