This text is in bold... - justin_guber

This text is in bold...

...because it's meant to be the title. But I don't have a title. Or a headline. Or a sub-headline. I have no body copy. I have no brain.

My sleep patterns have been erratic, and the words that I spoke here last week have now come to be. Only a few days ago I mentioned how everything was too easy-going, how it was the calm before the storm.

Well, the calm has fucked off to die and the storm's been here for the past three days raping the creative side of my brain whilst fondling my medula oblongata.

Last night I left at eleven. The two nights before I couldn't sleep till 4 or 5am, and when last nights all nighter came my body finally decide to go, 'hey, I haven't slept much, haven't I? Let's yawn and slow down the Khai's brain process!' I was here till eleven thinking about worms.

This morning was no better. After waking up late, I got in and immediately got called upstairs for a meeting that was meant to finish just before lunch. At 2pm, I finally got a chance to grab a bite, all alone, just me and my lamb roast.

Now I'm researching different cultures and languages for another project, and I'm feeling kinda fried up. I have rehearsals later, and my freelance cheque hasn't cleared at the bank yet.

Ooh, I didn't tell you about the cheque, now did I? The wonders of technology have enabled me to deposit my cheque without having to meet the evil spawns of Satan that work the teller counters at banks. I admit, I was scared at first, watching my cheque get swallowed by a big grey box, but when the receipt came out with a picture of my cheque on it, I felt somewhat relieved. It's weird. We can deposit cash and cheques without meeting a person face to face. We can move our finances about, we can check our balance, we can look up our account on-line.

And yet, if you lose your savings book, you're immediately fucked beyond compare. Wawasan 2020 indeed.

I still haven't transferred my short film to miniDV to send off for MVA's. Bugger. I don't have time. I've got rehearsals later tonight, and if things don't go well here, I may have to come back to the office after that. My parents have just arrived home from a trip to Jakarta, and I haven't even seen them.

But I can't complain. Life is good, more or less. Here, in the 'convincing-idiots-to-buy-shit-they-don't-need' industry, I finally get to do what I like: write. And, in my freelance time, I also get to do what I like: write. And I get to play music. And make films. And stuff.

...

But it's so much more fun to bitch about shit, ain't it?

4.8.04 11:28

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