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Tuesday, 16 March 2004


Topic: Belle de Jour

Forewarning: I only just this week discovered how to do a < strike > html2 thingumah, so I'm going to over use it even more than the italicising for the next few months.

If you have two hours of sleep over a three day period, then you see a grey lady walking through the kitchen at the corner of your vision, sudden holographic large spiders scuttly up walls, and even indoors, it looks like a fine rain is falling.

Last Thursday, someone at work puked in technicolour down a stairwell, mananging to splatter three flights of stairs, vertically. I was the most senior person onsite, so of course I did the senior thing, and walked away, pretending not to have noticed the streaming puke shower behind me.

Yesterday I was sat researching something on the office pc at work when I fell off the chair. The whole thing tipped on its side.
There was nothing wrong with the chair. Some subconscious part of me simply decided to sink in a south westerly direction, and take the comfy wheelie chair with me.

I just about managed to quell a fit of sheer, futile pointless fury on Monday morning, on the grounds that it was stupid. Somehow I became incensed that most British blogs I've read this weekend (excepting four bloggers whom I've already thanked) didn't bother to abate their tales of deoderant and how supercilious they were when they went to Sheffield for even one millisecond to mention what happened in Madrid.
I swear, I was shaking with pent up rage about it - I was all set to delete every link apart from the four who mentioned there'd been a terrorist massacre, like, next door.
Dunno where that came from. I can't surely have pre- mid- post- and inter- menstrual ferociousness tension, can I?

When I don't sleep, my stomach bulges into this perfectly round, protruding pot belly very rapidly, until I do. I've been patting it and feeding it Snickers all day. Seriously, today I had to wear an old oversized gap skirt of Tybalt's, because not one single pair of jeans or trousers I owned (in a wide range of sizes!) would close over the pot. Me! In a skirt! With a bowling ball belly! What larks, Pip, what larks.

If I hide my sock drawer in the hallway, and sit in the space, I can pretend I have a very low very uncomfortable desk, and imagine the pain in my legs is because I'm not used to Japanese furniture.

I'm trying to resist the impulse to take my walkman on the morning / afternoon walk to and from work. It's not like the deep throaty rowrrr of traffic is particularly precious to me. I just want to hold off the wealthy isolation that music affords me as long as possible. This morning, not having a walkman as I walked to the area office, unsure of my way and stumbling slightly to make my deadlines, I heard:
A loon-grinned pretty older woman asking me if I'd like to share a tract about Jesus.
The morning chorus being shattered by a particularly resonant and hoarsely grouching crow.
My footsteps, which made me look at the mist hanging aroung the fountain in Mayow Park as I passed it.
The sound of a street sweeper on almost every single street corner of Lewisham. Come on, Mister Mayor, you blobby self congratulatory tosser (I met him last week, this is true) - six street sweepers in one mile of quiet side streets is more than entropy. No-one could chuck out empty crisp packets fast enough to keep them all employed, surely?
The three or four pairs of small boys wrestling.
It's obscene to have so much energy as small boys do.
The office workers who are quietly, insanely singing to themselves. But not quite quietly enough. I like to think of them as nascent Jeffrey Dahmers - I imagine that the tedium of their cubicle-centric environments have unhinged them six years ago, and today is the day they'll allow the other staff to notice; the day of becoming - of taking back their stapler and burning down the building.
(Well, you have to have some way of feeling superior of a morning.)

Someone in my building lobs half a loaf of mouldy bread into the communal garden outside my window every day, and I get to sit and watch Cyril and five wood pigeons (my most hated feathered foe) fight for it.


Frosty brought her (to be fair, very pretty and well behaved) newborn baby into work today and asked me to hold it. It was involuntary, I swear. The flinching: "eww, no! What if I drop it?"
Anyway, she swears she's dropped it, too.

Back on the coldest night of February, I ordered a large mink blanket (fake fur, though) online, to curb the shivers. It still hasn't arrived, and now every day I walk past the nasty nylon cyan navy and turquoise spattered fleece throws labelled "MINK!" in their plastic carry cases in the fifty pee shop window, and shiver a little inside.

This page graced by sarsparilla at 4:37 PM GMT
Updated: Wednesday, 17 March 2004 4:34 PM GMT
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Tuesday, 16 March 2004 - 5:10 PM GMT

Name: Legomen
Home Page:

The puke shower wasn't 'aimed' at you was it, as you were senior person there?

I too fell off a chair but the week before last. It has a 'reclining' knob which, for some reason, turned into a 'collapse' knob because a nut had sheared.

I missed the Madrid Bombings on the news as I was ensconssed in rural France with no TV or radio. Nobody mentioned it out there, which is strange really and I only found out last Sunday. There was plenty of talk about the bombs on the railways which had happened the week before in France but no major talk of Madrid where I was. Very Odd indeed.

Tuesday, 16 March 2004 - 5:32 PM GMT

Name: sarah

Christ, I've been trying to write about the Spanish bombings since I first heard. And I can't, evey time I try I get so incensed I have to go and have a ciggy and kick some wheelybins about outside. I'm so unbelievably angry.

...Is the squirrel winning then?

Tuesday, 16 March 2004 - 5:40 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

The photo shows him eating, dunnit?

Tuesday, 16 March 2004 - 7:13 PM GMT

Name: pan
Home Page:

Similar problems, except that I just feel it isn't anything that blogging can help at the moment. I don't know what's going on, no-one knows what's going on - who's next, who did it (other than that they might be Moroccan), how do we stop it. What the hell do we do now?? I don't know. Nobody knows one single bloody fact about it. Blogging just seems to be, I don't know, noise almost - not relieving the problem one iota.

I've been listening to the news and simply don't want, however tangentially, to align myslef one iota with the moronic gabbling heads on the telly :-

AnchorWhore : While we've been on air the Spanish Police have said that no stone will be left unturned in their investigation. Lucy Newswhore is on the scene, Lucy

NewsWhore : Yes, the police issued the statement approximately 7 minutes ago, and categorically stressed that the investifgation would cover all aspects of the incident.

AncorWhore : And what does that mean exactly?

And so on and so forth and so on. I don't want to add to the colossal piles of verbiage and speculation that's out there. Let the process identify who was to blame, let us identify what their motives (if any) were. Then let's talk about it. I simply feel that I have nothing valuable to add right now. Talking about something I don't understand yet seems almost like grandstanding to me.

That's just how I feel about my personal situation. It's not an implied criticism of anyone else's decisions. After all that's what blogs are about - letting people speak out if they feel thay're capable of doing so.

Tuesday, 16 March 2004 - 7:21 PM GMT

Name: NIki
Home Page:

I agree. I can't seem to put into word the anger & (for lack of a better word) sadness I feel, either about the terrorist act(s) in Spain, so it's the same unimportant drivel for my blog.

What irks me most, though, is the nonchalant attitude that America has about it. Like, "Oh, only a few hundred people? That's nothing." Granted, I haven't heard anything expressly *said* in that regard, but the piss-poor media coverage & the ease in which people have gone on in their daily lives is infuriatingly obvious.

I sat in front of my television, jaw dropped, bawling, telling no one to "Make it stop, just make it stop." Those're really the only words that can best describe how I feel about it. My heart and thoughts are with Spain.

Tuesday, 16 March 2004 - 7:22 PM GMT

Name: Niki
Home Page:

I did, however, have a laugh at the mental image of you falling off of your chair. That one got me good.

Tuesday, 16 March 2004 - 8:49 PM GMT

Name: Francesca
Home Page:

I had to write about Spain, though I was really torn, as I mentioned in my blog. Writing about what happened gives the terrorists - whoever they may be - a voice, and somehow it seems wrong to do that.

On the other hand, as you say, it did happen on our doorstep.

It is one thing to not let "them" win. It is another thing entirely, at least from my perspective, to empathise with the immense suffering that still endures.

And from that perspective, it is hard to find the words, but harder still not to say something.

On another note entirely: blasted office chairs...!

Wednesday, 17 March 2004 - 12:47 AM GMT

Name: cacoa

Three words. Sick building syndrome.

Wednesday, 17 March 2004 - 6:37 AM GMT

Name: Cyn
Home Page:

Whew! That was an entry.
Okay, Spain. I live in the US--Canadian citizen.
The coverage here is quite plentiful. I don't really watch teevee--certainly not the news, but our local paper,
The Chicago Tribune, christ, this week's Newsweek (weekly news magazine) has a gruesome survivor shot of two victims and possibly a piece of a baby. Major coverage inside. And New Yorkers--read their media--talk to some NYC friends or bloggers--they feel for the Madridenos. I fear for all of us--and that's exactly what the terrorists set out to accomplish.

/topic change
That is a fat squirrel!
I really hope Cyril is a indicator of spring coming soon--it should help chase the blues away. You and I both need it.;)

Wednesday, 17 March 2004 - 7:23 AM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Yeah. What was weird was that nobody at all in any British blogs I read was mentioning it. It's not that they weren't still blogging at length about the usual. And, put together as a mass, that creates a quite different impression. Especially compared to the signal:noise ratio on the internetwebthingy after 9/11.

Wednesday, 17 March 2004 - 7:28 AM GMT

Name: Vanessa

A piece of a baby? Jeeez. How sick.

Anyway, Cyn, it was British blogs I was mad at, and it was largely an overreaction caused by lack of sleep, and the overreaction was what I was trying to blog.

I could understand it if it were, say Luxembourg, But Spain is right next door to our culture here. You've no idea how many British go live in Spain, visit Spain every bloody year, dream of emigrating to a quiet farm in Spain. It's the sudden silence, as if it's not one of the most familiar countries in all of Europe to us.

Or maybe the Spain thing is working class, and blogging is middle class? The middle classes are all about France or skiing. But soooo many people I grew up with live in Spain now.

And: Spring: I switched off one of my @#%$! poor heaters today! Yay!

Wednesday, 17 March 2004 - 7:35 AM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Just thought: I don't watch television at the moment. Perhaps that means I'm getting a different picture of the media overload.

Wednesday, 17 March 2004 - 2:32 PM GMT

Name: csf
Home Page: http://cgm?

i have just learned how to do the strike thing too.

Wednesday, 17 March 2004 - 3:46 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

Bustard Great! I'm so jealous pleased for you.

Thursday, 18 March 2004 - 2:00 PM GMT

Name: Tilesey
Home Page:

I choose to keep my blog free of world events, massacres, causes for war etc. I don't have the skill to accurately write how I feel about such terrible things as Madrid - why should I lessen their memory by writing a crap blog entry about it?

Madrid was a major event, I think it was terrible yet inevitable. I also think that Spain pulling out of Iraq is the worst possible thing they can do as it means the terrorists have won.

But my blog isn't where I choose to express this opinion. You should respect that - just because I don't blog it, doesn't mean I don't care about it or feel affected by it.

Thursday, 18 March 2004 - 6:31 PM GMT

Name: Vanessa

And I did respect that.
Read it again; I didn't criticise.
But I did blog that I'd had an irrational burst of rage. My purpose in writing was to indicate shock at the degree of rage - pretty akin to going ballistic at work when you've not really had enough sleep, deadlines are looming, and you're feeling frazzled.

If there's any real emotion in the final blog I've done about it, then it's surprise that no-one was blogging about it. And that's an entirely valid general observation, whatever *your* individual reasons or justifications for your particular blog are, isn't it?

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