I believe writers should write about what they know/about their own adventures, so here goes -- my life and times:

It doesn't smell good in here, never has. I think it's the mattresses they gave me.

There sure as hell were some hot American girls in the coffee place this morning. But they annoyed me with all their luggage.

Oh, yeah. The till guy was a shit when I bought that demi-baguette at Budgens Bow.

Hey, what's the deal with the surface of these walls?


Exciting, wot?

The personal is the universal.