Dear Diary,
I was sitting on the train this morning, minding my own phone-browsing business, when a cute young lady ended up standing near me. She joined us at Essendon, had a light complexion, slightly curly hair (not wavy, but not springs), classy spectacles, about six inches shorter than I, but the most important detail I noticed was that she was reading a Penguins Classic print of Dracula, the real “Bram Stoker’s” variety.
This intrigued me – not many people about are reading that book. Most people interested in vampire lore are now getting stuck into things like Twilight and Anne Rice’s books. I far prefer the Stoker work, there’s something a lot more sinister about his vampires, which is something I think they need. So, with that thought in mind, I started trying to come up with a way to start conversation, some simple way to open discussion, and get to tell her my name. She was marking her page and putting the book away, so now was the time if ever.
And then I spotted a guy who looked just like Colonel Sanders and so I had to go accuse him of chicken genocide (henocide?). My love-life is doomed.
Thoughts In The Key Of N 