In the Mood.

It might have been noticed that I’m in a blogging mood tonight. That’s because I’m not in the mood for doing anything else. I feel like writing, and my neighbour is quiet so I’m not being distracted by noise. I get easily distracted by noise.

I did think of starting that short story I mentioned, the one based on the dream, but I decided it won’t work. The allegory is too obvious, which makes it shallow and detracts from the surreal quality I intended it to have. I mean, look at the main plot points:

A town in which everything is painted in shades of grey, an ashen-faced populace that wears only grey clothing, grey concrete where the grass should be, grey lamp posts where the trees should be, a starving traveller on a stony road crossing a tedious plateau flanked by grey-green vegetation, a roadside food vendor displaying a multi-coloured gateau which turns out to be full of maggots, grey-clad fellow travellers mocking the protagonist for being repelled and telling him he should be happy to eat maggots since everybody else does, a gloomy landscape in which the road leads only to a precipice...

Nah, won’t do. Too obvious. Not up to standard. Flann O’Brien might have made something of it, but not me.

I’m tired anyway. Sixteen hours sleep over three nights isn’t enough. And I’ve little doubt I’ll come to life at midnight as I always do.