There seems to be a running theme within my last few posts – books. All of them have referenced or used them in some form or another and, as a massive Book Geek, I’m proud to say this one won’t be any different.
I don’t keep a diary these days, although it’s not because I look down on them or believe them to be self-indulgent or anything even remotely negative. I kept one for many years and would frequently write essays on scraps of A4 then stuff them into a folder tucked between the bed and my secret stash of porn mags. Sex and words have always been closely related in my world.
And yet my diary was never sexy, despite the two biggest sources of inspiration for such entries being forever lodged in my brain in a sexy way.