Scenes From an Odd Life
So here I am, feeling like refried dog carcass, sitting outside my house in sweatpants and a jacket from Sand, bashing out the final 500 words on a little chapter for the book Mats Börjesson and I are writing on power. My son just brought me an ice-cream, which was very nice of him. I really don’t feel like summarizing Slavoj Zizek. At least I’ve finished my chapter on creativity for another book.
