Old Faithful I ask you a question. Does a pint of guinness (thanks, L.) in one hand and a super-strength cigarette (thanks, P.) in the other necessarily make for better writing? Well we are going to find out.

I sit down to write the proposal for the upcoming exhibition. Actually I am not looking for better writing so much as easier writing. It is well and good to write for other people, that comes out as smooth as double churned butter, or the chee cheong fun at Chow Kit wet market. When it comes to my own work, it is agony. This is the hardest part of all. You see, between you and me, I have no idea whatsoever what I am about for this exhibition. I have half-baked notions of ships, scaffolding, seas, sail building and muddling up a world map, but that is it. The problem is sounding like I know exactly what I am doing.

So this stage always requires a helping hand. If I wasn't such a control freak I'd hire a ghost writer, but things being as they are, the guinness will have to do. As I take joy in pointing out, guinness is practically a meal in itself. Bonus - no need to scavenge for food. In fact, I feel it taking effect now. So see y'all later.  ¶ 3:04 PM