Chip

After a disgustingly productive morning, I've been shipwrecked on the rocky cliffs of the afternoon.

My cargo has spilled out (mostly clementines and good cheer), there's a huge gash in my hull, and my crew are all drowning. I'd throw them a lifebelt, but apparently I'm the ship in this analogy, so don't have any arms.

The sea is time. The cormorants are... I don't know... doubts? And the cliffs are sovereign territory of The Apathetico Archipelago.

Except the cliffs are the afternoon. If sea is time, wouldn't the cliffs have to be made of the sea? This metaphor has veered of course, and is in danger of crashing into similar rocks. Soon there will be meta-shipwreck upon meta-shipwreck; a huge symbolism-slick polluting the water and contaminating birds; desperate seamen using their own literalisations as stepping stones; plumes of simile smoke puffing out of shattered funnels like intestines in space.

We'll have to build a lighthouse.

Maybe Virginia Woolf can help?

Also, it's cold in here. I'm sure I've complained about it in a variety of interesting ways before, but our office heating seems to march to the beat of its own drum. It's all whim. Temperature can't be controlled. You have to let it run free, like a gazelle or a person in a marathon dressed as a gazelle.

Or it could be based on the settings of the heating system.

Who knows? Who cares? Who knows? (I know I've already asked that - but it bears repeating) Who knows?

***

Mood

Annoying.

Listening to

I like theme music that explains the entire premise of the film in too much detail. This is the kind of song that would never get shipwrecked on any rocks. Metaphor is for losers.

Reading

Tea leaves. They started off slowly, but the tension is really building now. I hope there's no rubbish twist ending, like they turn out to be coffee or Tarot cards or something.

Watching

I watched lots of new stuff yesterday, none of which I want to discuss in detail. Community was good. It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia was OK. Black Mirror was very compelling. The People Who Live In The House Opposite Ours were disappointingly clothed.

Playing

Chicken, with the me of a parallel dimension. We could collide at any time, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna be the one to move. That other me is such a dick, with his clean-shaven face and helping the less fortunate and his blog posts that make sense and don't have any tpyos. What a loser.

Eating

I just had lunch. A cold Cajun chicken breast, some undercooked broccoli and some carrots. And about a pint of thousand island dressing. It was reasonably nice.

(I don't know if you've noticed - who knows? - but I seem to have lost interest in writing this blog post. However, rather than waiting until I'm interested again, I'm just writing stuff anyway, but am full of resentment at myself for beginning this whole experiment. I'm taking my frustrations out on myself, which is discouraged in our work handbook and encouraged by our work footbook. The latter was written by me, with a paintbrush between my toes and a sharp, stabbing pain between my ears. This has been too long a diversion to be contained within brackets, but I can't stop now. I'm really onto something. Hmm. Ah.)


Drinking

I had some green tea earlier. I thought it would bring me peace, but it seems to have brought me a chip on my shoulder. I bet I could have some fun with that phrase. A chip on my shoulder! Just imagine! But I'm not going to, because of "reasons".

***

We're all glad I did this. I'm certainly glad. When people walk past me, they might notice a sudden glow or increase in temperature or odour, and ask "what's that?". And I'll say "who knows?", but I'll know it's gladness.

And they'll go home all glad and everyone will just be peachy and glad and I'll get offered the Nobel Peace Prize, but I'll turn it down because I don't want to have to buy a new jacket.

I'm glad you're glad.

Let's just all be glad. Separately. Quietly.