Confessions

It wasn't easy going to sleep last night. Every once in a while, I get the odd insomnia attack - usually defying any sort of explanation. It keeps me up staring at the walls and the ceiling for what seems like a lifetime.



Perhaps a dark-haired hunk had a hand in keeping me awake and hell, it isn't that easy trying to ignore someone else in bed besides you. Books have a habit of creeping into my bed when I least expect it - and when Tony Romero came to bed with me that night, I certainly found it hard to resist. Confessions of a Casanova by Chris Kenry tells the story of.. well, a gay casanova of course. A charming ne-ér-do-well who specializes in the chase but doesn't do well with the happily-ever-afters.

Can't say much about the book yet ( since I'm juggling the unappealing main course of my textbooks along with the occasional appetizer of a gay casanova ) but I can tell you that I am engrossed in the story. The main character carries shades of a man I know so well - and yet I find myself sympathizing with the low, cheating bastard. It's like an accident that I know's gonna happen and yet I can't help wanting to know more. :)

Still, the damned book kept me up way past my normal bedtime ( damn, I've become a creature of habit ) - obviously affecting my internal clock. And when I woke up this morning, I was at my groggy worst. Not only did I spill the oats for breakfast, I buttoned my shirt the wrong way, snatched up an acid-green tie to match my pink shirt - and also picked up the wrong underwear. Imagine wearing a skimpy black thong to work. Not a good idea. :) It was a trying time in the changing room, that's for sure.