I write more humorously, and with more biting wit, when I am hungry as opposed to when I am full. There might be something to this starving-artist thing after all. I’m not saying that this is anything like art, but maybe this works the same way for other people with other skills. I always thought I was sharper when I was hungry. Maybe this is a sign I should stop eating.

I had breakfast this morning with Emma, who has just returned to the country from a three-week-long stint in Ghana. Everyone is going to Africa, and that sounds really silly, but according to Emma, spending time in developing countries is really good for the health. Mental and physical, apparently. She is visibly less deranged than I am.

Nevertheless you really can’t complain about things like running water, consistent electricity, lack of malaria, and breakfast that isn’t noodle sandwiches. If it weren’t for the electricity problem, I would say I should hit the road. Or rather the skies. Apparently Xeni Jardin manages to blog on the road, but she is also a well-known journalist, monied, and a lot more attractive than I am. (Not that I’m jealous.) Somehow I’m pretty sure when you are traveling in countries where you do not necessarily speak the language being attractive helps. But maybe finding a hut in Ghana would be good for writing my novel.  Eating only noodle sandwiches might lend itself nicely to the sharpness of mind that I need to finish writing that fucking thing.