September 8th, 2015.

I sometimes still remember, as I get in the bus to go to the station, how I used to whip out the laptop and start work for the scanning company I had – straight in the bus and all the way until I got to work. Such was my life busy that I’d never relax, even while in public transportation. Thank God those days are over.

My 41st birthday today. No big newsday. So my forties are over. Did I accomplish what I set out to do? Heck, I don’t recall setting out to do anything. Oh, maybe write screenplays and see them turned into movies. Managed one of those. I’d rather look ahead, though.

Delivered the compilation of flea-stories to a publisher in Copenhagen, one named after Don Quitoxe’s horse. Interesting place, the brief glance I got of it. Should try and think of a self-publishing thing, if they turn it down. Perhaps translate it into English. If I really care as much to spend the hours, still unsure.

Will drive to Funen today, to celebrate my birthday there – mainly because V don’t like the idea of people – her own family included – coming over and seeing how dirty the house is (it’s never as bad as she makes up her mind it is). So a bit of a different day than most, I guess.


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