The weekly review mindsweep ram dump is such a relief. My interior mental furniture is in order with excellent feng shui.
A very productive morning. Maybe it is my new lack of hair. Maybe not. Either way, I am slightly perturbed that no one has commented on it.
Light headed without my hair, cooler, spiky, listening to Sterelab, legs crossed at ankles, poor posture, the rat of hayfever in my throat.
I thought this Facebook phishing scam was an intelligence test of sorts, but now I realise it is an ingenuousness test. Alas, I am a cynic.
All my hair cut off. “Have you lost your strength like Samson”, said the wife. Apparently not, and now she’s in casualty. Whoops.
My eyes are Blears, my hair is Straw, my Balls are aching for my Darling, when I am old like Beckett I will doubtless have a Jowell.
Am worried that learning Flash isn’t going to as easy as I hoped it might, my brain is palpably stretching with the cognitive dissonance.
How many times have I done something for the last time? When does a man resign himself to indulgence?
Everyone has short hair: conservative cuts, neat hirsutitude, skin shaved clean. Tonight I will join the massed ranks of hairless purists.
Nattering cacophonious voices, the buzz of activity, daddy longlegs walking over the meniscus of thought.
An empty CCA, the Aye-aye books a welcome distraction, the Dada almanac looks interesting. Where’s Rob?
Stillness. The things I have seen. Consumed in the moment, looked back on as something strange and obscene.
Half of my todo list is now a todone list. Finished all the itty bitty annoying things and am now going to move onto the capacious big ones.
We have IQ and EQ, but what about a quotient for a person’s ability to make long term decisions?
Waiting for the app to deploy whilst reading Sam Anderson on the benefits of distraction: http://is.gd/AUzo
Just read a brilliant PKD story, The Chromium Fence, about a world divided into Purists and Naturalists. Which one am I?
Bracing myself for a long rush-hour cycle to Paisley through the acrid streets of Glasgow.
If you consume the bad, it will make way for the good, says the easter egg chocolate. Eat me, go on, before I’ve can really get my claws in.
One thing at a time, like a cone, everything centres on the central point – wit, sharp consciousness, it all comes from being able to focus.
After years of saying I would learn Flash I’ve now put myself in the position of having to learn it. See also Daffy Duck and the Golden Egg.