And then he sang to her...

Did you ever write something, and then have no idea what to do with it? Usually I get so far through a piece and if it sucks I throw it way, or confine it to the deepest depths of my hard drive just in case I want to get at it years later, but this is kind of… complete but not? It’s saying something, but it wants to say more. I’m pretty sure I should be in charge of the muse, not the muse in charge of me. Or maybe I am actually just crazy.

I have four hours on a train tomorrow! I love trains. I’m going to visit America one day and go on the subway in New York, because the Conductors sound awesome. And you can spend forever on a train in America, whereas here you run out of land… Anyhow, I’m hoping my friends will all sleep on the way back, so I’ve bought a tiny purple notebook (to go with my purple purse, iPod and bag) and maybe the muse will co-operate when it doesn’t have music and fic to scroll through at will.

I’m going to Camden Market on this train, so hopefully they’ll have some nice corsets down there that won’t bankrupt me. Probably a purple one (I’m tempted to go for black, because it goes with everything, but I have such a lot of black stuff). Or a nice Royal Blue *daydreams*. And we’re going to go adventuring in big, scary London Town, so you may never see this little country girl again…