I'm not amazed, particularly, by the howling stitch-up going on at Tory central office. I'm perhaps slightly suprised by the transparency of it all, but that's about it. As a dyed-in-the-wool leftie I am also allowing myself a small portion of glee at the disarray the Conservative party has got itself into. I know NewLab need credible opposition, I know that, but goddamn, it's just too sweet sometimes. Liberals for second party status! Do it, England!

Hey, that last one posted! Cool! In a fit of irony, the signal kept cutting out. Hahaha.

I'm on my way to the quiz tonight, and am expecting great things - frankly, we've had some shitty luck lately, but toniht the director is going to be Spielberg, or Danny Boyle or someone I know something about. Dammit.

So there's this big magnetic storm heading in from the Sun and ... Sun is capitalized, yes? ... and it's fucking with my GPRS. Damn you, Sun! Do something useful for once!

Oh, goodie! Fireworks! Really, really loud fireworks about thirty yards away. I do hope one backfires and smites them like the wrath of Jesus.

Well, it's turned the corner into the street marked 'damn cold!' and I wish I had a coat on right now. A loose-knit wool jumper just isn't cutting it for me right now. I'm clutching my pret latte like a hot water bottle. Except I'm not. I'm holding my phone. Gonna stop now.

I just saw the remake of the ferero rocher ambassador advert. I mean, why? We didn't really like it, ad people! It wasn't the story we were transfixed by, it was the fucking shameful awfulness of it all! You can't make a posh version and expect us to greet it like an old friend! It was shit! That was its joy, it's saving grace! It's now just... blah. Not needed.

The poster I'm standing next to just lit up, right now. Oh. It's gone out. Hmm. Because it isn't dark yet? Oh, no it's on.. Ah. It's broken.

...

Next time I sound so much like Alanis, you have full permission to slap me. I started this new 'n' shiny weblog with the intention of it being free of the usual self-pitying drivel one finds in 99% of blogs these days (and so it always was and shall be, until the Goths dance their slow, comical dances under the dying sun, Amen).

So.

Someone I've known since they were 12 years old was killed in a car crash on Monday night. Just swerved into the front of a lorry, died instantly. He was 19.

I'm 26, I am cheerfully developing wrinkles and I've nothing to complain about.

I haven't posted for a while. I've not wanted you to know what I'm thinking. I'm tired all the time, and I'm cold most of the time, and I'm sad for no reason half the time, and I'm happy half the time for good reason, and I'm working, and I'm lazy, and I'm inspired, and I'm blocked.

I want. I have.