Question my motives. I do.
May. 1st, 2004 03:01 pmThis begins its life scribbled on the back of an A4 envelope from the Landmark Trust - I'd maybe make LJ2ME work if I could look at a screen for any length of time without wanting to vomit, but that avenue is currently unavailable since I'm in day three or four of the most/least entertaining migraine yet.
The only things I can stand to do are/is listen to Radio 3 and stare at flowers. Maybe the muscular exercise required to focus on the various parts of the bunch is providing much more of a filling meal than the regular gruel-based diet of a flat screen filled with xterms. Who can say? The chap explaining the inner mechanisms of fugues is equally entertaining. It's like a mathematically rigorous Jazz Club.
I wrote this out in longhand because I cannot stand to read words on a screen. Words, when joined up properly, are supposed to sink into your soul or long-term memory or wherever they go to live forever. These... Sit around for a bit, shifting quietly and uncomfortably like a slick of diesel, before wandering off to do some shopping. It's not a good thing to watch one's friends-list turn into babble. Real lives (or so one cheerfully assumes) turned into spa-foyer background hubbub. The spirit is largely willing - I'm a bloody hacker denied the tools of his calling/addiction - but the vision centre(s), or whatever the hell else is/are cowering in the corner howling for ibuprofen, has/have gone 'fuck you' and pitched the toys from the pram.
I should be able to see y'all later.
The only things I can stand to do are/is listen to Radio 3 and stare at flowers. Maybe the muscular exercise required to focus on the various parts of the bunch is providing much more of a filling meal than the regular gruel-based diet of a flat screen filled with xterms. Who can say? The chap explaining the inner mechanisms of fugues is equally entertaining. It's like a mathematically rigorous Jazz Club.
I wrote this out in longhand because I cannot stand to read words on a screen. Words, when joined up properly, are supposed to sink into your soul or long-term memory or wherever they go to live forever. These... Sit around for a bit, shifting quietly and uncomfortably like a slick of diesel, before wandering off to do some shopping. It's not a good thing to watch one's friends-list turn into babble. Real lives (or so one cheerfully assumes) turned into spa-foyer background hubbub. The spirit is largely willing - I'm a bloody hacker denied the tools of his calling/addiction - but the vision centre(s), or whatever the hell else is/are cowering in the corner howling for ibuprofen, has/have gone 'fuck you' and pitched the toys from the pram.
I should be able to see y'all later.
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Date: 2004-05-01 07:58 am (UTC)I heard that Catherine Bott Handel programme too. The guy improvising a four-voice fugue was just showing off, I reckon.
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Date: 2004-05-01 08:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-05-01 04:55 pm (UTC)The Landmark Trust are the self-catering arm of English Heritage. Instead of a hollowed-out volcano with helicopters and minions, they have an island with a rather nice pub in the Bristol Channel.
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Date: 2004-05-01 05:00 pm (UTC)Then there are the sparklies, which mean I have a half hour to reach the 'inner core or refuge'.
Eighteen hours kip seems to have sorted it. Though I think I'll still have a bit of a potter in the 'garden' and then sod off out on the bike for a few miles tomorrow.
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Date: 2004-05-02 01:34 pm (UTC)Sorry. My sister's ex-fiancee fell foul of this lot. The ex- was the result.
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Date: 2004-05-02 04:40 pm (UTC)While I'm all for self-actualisation (dealing with feelings of low self-worth can do that), it is possible to know that one's a good sort of fellow and be confident in one's daily life without being a complete twit and dispensing with the set of people who you've been told are 'holding you back'.