On The Wire
My obsession with The Wire has reached its peak, as we enter Season Five. I have lost many hours of sleep to this series. It may even be better than sleep. So far, I can’t decide if I love Season Two (the stevedores) or Season Four (the kids, the heartbreaking kids) the most. No-one is good or bad in The Wire, everyone is flawed and human. Nothing is explained, everything is shown. The canvas is huge, but it focuses on one city. The women are foul-mouthed members of the team, not objects of hotness. Characters you adore are mown down, leaving you mourning for days (RIP, Bodie). What a lesson for writing.
On not writing
Apparently what I am doing is called composting. That is all.
On finding a new author, or rather, an author new to me
I read and devoured AM Homes’ May We Be Forgiven over Christmas, and am now foisting it on everyone. She is quite, quite brilliant, and now I have just finished This Book Will Save Your Life, which equally good. Homes appears to be a prolific writer, so I have hours of reading happiness ahead of me.
On men in skirts.
Lunges hurt more than push-ups.
Happiness is more important than career trajectory.
Snow makes winter easier to love.
My to-do list is getting shorter, but I still have three major items that require ticking off.
On photo shoots
Artifice hurts and takes a very long time. However, it helps to have good people.