.Happiness is... everchanging.

I don't remember much of last night which means it must have been good. The X madness has ceased. Thankfully, it lasted for three days only. Sheer stubborness makes me not think about him. Who was I kidding? The only commitment I should make is my own to an institution. Maybe we'll be together again one day but right now we're too young and fucked up. Then again, perhaps in a decade I'll just be older and fucked up.

Summer is in full-swing. I'm loving the heat. Even the stickiness is welcome this year. I'm digging the beach, the sandals, the brown skin, the cocktails... If only life could be summer all the time. I'm starting to think that I don't do the cold.

In eleven minutes I'm going to start strolling down to the pub. Me, an Ipod and bare streets.... I am truly beginning to love my little walks. Though I think that maybe I go out too much. I slept at 6am and woke up at 2pm on Friday. My accomplices refused to go out with me again last night. I ended up repeating Friday. It was like Groundhog weekend, only the faces changed.

It is such a goddamn relief not to be unhappy. I might even dare say that I'm quite the opposite. Good lord, I think I'm actually happy.

,Pomegranates, Popcorn and Pearls.

There is a site called Authonomy which is aimed at helping writers get notice and, hopfully, published. I posted the first draft of my novel there the other day and so far the feedback has been... well, pretty perfect. If you're bored or looking for something new to read or just flat-out interested, feel free to wander over and have a look. I'm pretty sure you need to register first but then a whole new world of books opens up to you. The title of my novel is also the title of this post. If you like what you read, back me up dudes! Put me on the shelf! (The Authonomy shelf is not to be confused with the spinster shelf which has, I feel, a certain stigma clinging to it.)

On Sunday night I smelt the summer whispering to me in the honeysuckle air. It was divine. I felt light and happy. I have started sleeping with my limbs poking out of the covers and with the window open. The breezes are warmer and breathing seems thicker somehow. I love summer. My summers flow with watermelon and white dresses, heat-drenched sand, frappes, island hopping, ripe brown tans and wine and poker on balconies. Good morning summer.