I spent way too long on the inner webs last night and ended up reading the TWO AFRO DADS blog. I am not sure how I got there, I was attempting to research night life in Bombay in the 1930s and what I found was Indian surrogates which proves to me that google succotash Balzac and that I will never write a novel but have lots of general knowledge about IVF and gay love.
I will write this goddamned piece of merdahein> Without talking it up too much I can see it being like Coral Island meets The Devil Wears Prada. It will be a chic lit classic that little boys will read under their bed covers with a pen light. Oh my gosh. I just had a revelation....... I was mocking the Coral Island here (I have three copies of it, long story, but never read it) and just realised that one major scene in my yet-to-be-written masterpiece does in fact, take place on a (mostly) deserted island in the Philippines. But there's an opera house there and immigrants in tattered fur coats eating chicken that tastes like fish because these island chickens eat seaweed. I am going to start saving money so I can travel to China, India and the Philippines, dressed in my fur coat with my little olympus recorder and interview people who knew people that danced in art deco hotels in Bombay and Shanghai instead of trawling this dead sea called the internet. Life is outside my front door, goddammit. Where's my pinemango juice? I'm pretending I'm in the tropics today - heat up - so I can describe the blue waters of Bora Bora.