My brain says, “Karl, you’re an idiot, why are you spending all this time writing. No-one wants to read this nonsense.” And so I get into a negative spiral: Why am I bothering to do this? Is anyone even reading what I’m writing? What’s the point of publishing a post every single day?
Gyo by Junji Ito
Tadashi loves scuba diving, and during a trip with his girlfriend Kaori, he comes across an impossibly fast sea creature, unlike anything he’s seen before. He sets out to investigate the animal but is forced back to the surface by a group of sharks. When he arrives back on land he finds that the strange creature has followed him, and it’s brought along all of its friends.
Explorers We by Philip K. Dick
After an extended mission to Mars, six astronauts re-enter the Earth’s atmosphere. Understandably, they’re overwhelmed with excitement for the celebrations that await their arrival and desperate to see their families after so long away from home.
Writing is a sedative
I wear a Fitbit Ionic watch which tracks my heart rate throughout the day and night. Before new year my average resting heart rate was between 63 and 66, but since I started writing daily my average heart rate is now between 57 and 59 and has been consistently for two weeks.
I went surfing
The worst thing about surfing (of which there are many) is the wet suit. I now understand the plight of Edwardian women forced into rib crackingly tight corsets and can fully sympathise with the Suffragettes burning their restrictive undergarments. Clothes so tight that you’re forced to walk like you’ve soiled your trousers should be outlawed by the European Court of Human Rights.