I got Scrivener several years ago, and
woke up this morning, got myself a
new zoot suit and a Rocket 88. But then
DISASTER! I realised that I had absolutely
no idea how to make a perfect
portrait of the portly, pompous, and pusillanimous – not to say
Oh come on, can’t we just reveal that the current Tutorial is located under
seventh portal in the omni-controller thingummy
of the sort much worth watching one’s
watch, because who watches the watchers, as Juvenal jovially
ejaculated. But then Jupiter juxtaposed a
jolly Jugarthian jape in humid Numidia against a fœtid farrago of
Ethiopian coffee beans strewn on the wharf.
I sat, contemplative. This was all beginning
to feel like the end of the beginning of middle of the prologue to the
long-awaited resurrection of Vic-K.
who used to have long chats with me about the new Tescos in Stockport town centre and the foolish and unnecessary
requests for adding AI to Scrivener that would happen in the future.
Blinking against the afterimage of a thought that slipped away,
I realized I needed another Latte macchiato.