Words, to your mother.

Epic moment this (late) morning: I was struck with what I like to call "the beat". Words came to me before I'd even gotten out of bed and I began writing a story that I cannot wait to finish. Such an exhilarating feeling.

Then I thought I lost my keys, credit card, licence, and student ID, but I just found them, at 7:30 p.m., in my kitchen. I sketched into the building, the intrepid that I am, while a boy was leaving. He gave me weird eyes.

London lost an estimated 700 million GBP from yesterday's complete infrastructural failure. And the transport chief says, "We did the best we could." Weak.
Just watched Elem Klimov's Добро пожаловать, или Посторонним вход воспрещён (Dobro pozhalovat, ili Postoronnim vkhod Vaspryecyhon) which is a Krushev-era Russian film about kids at summer camp and it was hi-larious. In one scene the boys dove into a poison ivy grove so that they would not have to see their parents at visitor's week. Adorable! I could watch Russian films all day long.