Mes Amis
I am not writing tonight. Not a single word of crime fiction. No thought of the fun to be had at B'Con, no looking longingly at the spines of those crime books to be read. No, mes amis, tonight I am a philosophist. My dissertation time is nearly due and I am, to couch it in the sophisticated terms of the philosophist community, cacking myself. That guy to the left, he's a picture of calm compared to me right now.
I am going over my dissertation (its all about free will, if you really must know) and have come to realise something. I think about food way too much. Three examples of intelligent beings making choices concern whether or not to eat steak pies. One concerns choosing between beer and water and another concerns being stranded in the desert and choosing to drink a convenient pint which just happens to be lying around in the sand.
It might be part of a cunning plan, of course. I could distract the guy who's unfortunate enough to be marking this by turning his mind to food and thus having him not think about the sheer cak on the page. But if only I was that cunning. If I was that cunning, my head would explode if I even thought about what I was saying.
Anyway, I'm off for a pie, now. Mmmmm... pie...
And then, once I've satiated that hunger its back to philosophising.
And burrowing.
Not that I'm a badger.
Au Revoir
Russel
UPDATE: (00:42) That's it away to my supervisor. I have taken out beer references, left a glass of water in the desert and left some pie in there as well. I wonder whether I'll finally be able to leave this project be. Its become like some time-consuming monster recently...
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