Oh dear. Koog's cranky.

By the way, thanks to everybody who wrote to confirm that Nick Lowe sings "Cruel to be Kind." My other guess was Marshall Crenshaw, and my evil twin wrote suggesting that CtbK was a Marshall Crenshaw song.

I laughed.

I was thinking about writing last night, wondering why I get so frustrated when I see people who write well but don't do it for a living calling themselves writers. I know that's wrong, but it walks the same line as "I may be waiting tables now but really I'm a Serious Actress."

Well, how 'bout you act like a waitress and bring me some damned coffee?

To return briefly to my point, people talk a lot about writing. Maybe they should just shut up and write. Or maybe it's just that I should. I generally get a lot of writing done when I visit NYC, but I didn't really have the leisure to do so on this week's visit.

Anyway, nobody should take this particular entry personally with the possible exception of me. Just think to yourself "She doesn't mean me. She probably doesn't even read my diary."

Because I don't. Probably.

I have two reputations: one is that I'm brutally honest and the other is that I'm a bitch. I don't think either one of those statements is completely true, though it's increasingly hard for me to conceal dislike where it exists. I can, of course, but more and more I choose not to.

So, by this time you may be asking, what's on Koog's mind today that makes her so cranky?

For one, I'm worried about US politics again, because George W. Bush is an acknowledged lightweight and nobody seems to care, much less mind. For another, I can feel the days starting to get shorter. Lastly -- OK, so there's more on my mind, but I don't feel like whining about it -- there's something I'd like to do at the end of August, but I don't know if it's fesable.

Plus, I just don't feel well today. Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow.

before - after