Dear Bongo, No

Bono wrote to Captain Beefheart asking to collaborate, & Beefheart sent back a letter that just said, "Dear Bongo, no."

Ah Wednesday. The spotted hot water bottle that keeps me company during these serial bouts of insomnia is fine underneath my knees unless I shift an inch and then she leaps from the bed, terrified.  She trots around the other side and hops in again. And so it goes, rather like a bad marital dance.

I told someone today that I filed for disillusionment, without a hint of irony.

But the darkest hour is always before dawn -- they would have you believe -- so we await the sun with nervous excitement.