>>>>>Killing Time<<<<<

The IT Crowd have given me the ability to roam around the blogosphere (groan!) once more and I thank them for it. So, I can call in on Ben, whose writing style and honesty I really like, and Looby, who makes me laugh, and Lozman, who sits next to me at work but never updates his blog (but still I check it! I'm a fool!) and Mike, who hardly ever updates either but then he's having a ball in Japan, and Richard Herring, who once gave me a sandwich (I've been dining out on that for several years. It was a big sandwich. Boom boom.) and then just bloghop until I'm so sick of staring at the screen that I will eventually return to work, to writing about cats stuck up trees and Rural Preserves Competitions and football teams who've had planning permission for new facilities refused, and then get so bored that I return to the blogosphere (groan!) and bloghop until it's late enough in the day to slide off home, where I can go back on the net and bloghop, and check my stats, and realise that the audience for Killing Time isn't as big as I'd like it to be, even though I don't really want anyone to read it, just in case I'm giving too much away about my shaky state of mind, my depression, my mental health, the medication, legal and otherwise, the amount of alcohol I drink, that lack of writing I actually do but I still call myself a writer, my hatred of my place of work and its inept managers, an old boy network packed full of people who have risen through the ranks simply due to the fact that they can talk utter shite, loudly and convincingly and succeed by intimidating their staff into believing their nonsense about the internet being the future (it is, but not theirs, they can barely turn a PC on) and video journalism being the future (it is, but they can't get their sound levels right) and 80 hour weeks being the future (it's not. and I'm not buying into that culture. ever) and being clean shaven being the future (have you seen the women here?) and the past being the future and the future being the past and it's all the same fucking bag of bones anyway, it's a constant process of coming into being and passing away...we're forever being kicked up the ass by the future. You with me? Johnny's words, not mine. It's a mixed up muddled up shook up world...and Pete Doherty's been arrested again, the silly boy. Ah well. Are Tuesdays the new Mondays, do you think? Are weekdays the new Mondays? Are weekends the new weekdays? Are days the new nights? Are nights the new days? Are knights the new daze? Bla bla bla. And there was such a promising start to all this...

Listening: Giant Drag - Hearts and Unicorns