Gone With The--Ah Fuck It

Now and then I poke my head into blogosphere to see how my little-ship-that-could is doing. Turbo-charged, word guzzlers zoom past, all chrome and wonder, the virtual asphalt torn asunder in their wake, air cloying with the thick haze of Reddit links and Digg suggestions; meanwhile the Wandering Mind idles along, neglected and forgotten, the feral blogs of the internet wilderness beckoning it to join their maddening crowd.

Honestly I can't even say why I haven't bothered with it. Not because it's a secret, simply because I don't have the faintest idea. Funnily enough this very moment is being powered by a "I'm fed up and fuck everything" mood and this is suddenly when I decide to brave the overgrown weeds that no doubt populate my online garden of babble. That's irony or something.

One would suppose with the big change that having a new job and meeting new people entails, that such experiences would be fodder for the ramblings of a bearded man in charge of his own website. Quite frankly it's all a bit dull. Passé. Morbidly uninteresting. Combined with my waning faith in people the past few weeks I am left with an acutely bitter tasting mood (that my immediate superior at said new job adds a rich bouquet of stale cigarette smoke and raspy breathing to). The result is a one man pity party, pouring his selfish woes on to a neglected blog.

Job remain barely bearable.

The so-called fairer sex manage to twist my vision of simplicity on it's head before giving it a firm stiletto to the knackers.

And my dog, the mighty Josh, has been ill of late. All the more worrying at the ripe age of 15.

My mood is Rhett Butler right now. And everything else is Scarlett O'Hara.

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."