I'm trying out this new blog template for a while. Just to see how it feels. At the moment, it seems very... blue.
I'm starting a new job on Wednesday, which is a relief/pain. Hopefully the job won't be too much hard work, and will allow me to write blog entries in the office, just like the old days.
I keep focussing on what I can do with my salary. I could pay a homeless man to do the "I'm not worthy" bowing mime at me every time I walk past him. A little bit of an ego boost in the morning.
This entry seems to be composed of short sentences. I don't know why. Sometimes I'm willowy and waffly and slippery. But today I'm not. I'm just short. And abrupt. They call me the Staccato Prophet.
No, they don't.
The people in the flat upstairs are having a party. And I'm sitting on my own, writing my blog on a Friday night. Still, we all know who the real winner is.
They're probably having a raucous time, alcohol flowing like wine, witty conversation, several kilos of recreational drugs. They're probably all beautiful and carefree, and sexually promiscuous. They're probably pouring champagne into a crystal fountain, discussing Wittgenstein and manually stimulating each other.
But we all know who the real winner is. He's the one about to watch WWE Smackdown with a cup of tea.
And given the choice between a beautiful bohemian orgy and a possible appearance by Chuck Palumbo - well...
the winner is obvious.
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