D-Day

Word Count: I am suspending work on the novel, to face research. I think that the reason why I am blocked is because I have not been focusing on my research. I won't return to the novel until I write extensive notes on at least a DOZEN 'innovative' methods of murder.

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Today, Thursday the 27th is D-Day. (Check the Accused's blog for details, if you have no idea what I'm talking about!)
I haven't been this happy in weeks. I slept in a bed last night and woke up this morning suspended in the air, floating in a bliss that even fiction will not be able to describe.
*
If you've got the stomach for action-packed adventure (with an explosive cocktail -- rose wine in chemical reaction with pink perfume ON THE ROCKS -- thrown in for the strong-of-liver), join Carlos (YES, CARLOS!) and I later today at the event mentioned here. [Ignore the rest of the psychotic, paranoid, incoherent brambbling (babbling+rambling) in her post. Take it as it is, a disguised invite from the most-experienced and shameless self promoter in the world]

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Here are two more pieces of breaking news (THANKS CARL!) - can't get more incriminating, can it? (Share it with law enforcement agents if you like. I have decided to handle my own stuff myself...):

Exhibit Two: a post-it note. (See Exhibit 1 here)

7/7/2007

C (Desi's Note: Original name abbreviated by me to protect owner's identity)

I've got the gun, but I don't know how it works. Could you handle that aspect? I'll come along for the ride, of course – and bring the mop (or should that be 'broom' ha ha ha!)

Love and kisses forever

Adorna xxxxxxx

P.S I am not joking. These contraptions are complicated. Could we not try the garotte idea instead?

Exhibit Three: a pristine piece of thick cream paper, complete with a red wax seal (broken). Blue black fountain pen ink.

28/03/2008

Adorna, my love,

Where can I find the strength to go on? To live with this burden of guilt? The light of your beauty does not outshine the darkness in my soul. The warmth of your love and your bed does not thaw the icy mass of my tarnished conscience. Must this go on? I thought one book would have been enough. But no, you needed two. And now you have killed your golden goose? What are you going to do next? The thought makes my blood run cold.

Please, my love, my darling – your voice is like the music of my mother's violin – essential to my life and my happiness. Lets stop this madness now, while we still
can.

Please.

C (Desi's Note: Original name abbreviated by me to protect owner's identity)

P.S Do you believe in ghosts?