Stupid

Oh god.

It’s official. I am possibly the stupidest creature to walk the earth. There are, of course, many reasons why this could be true. But the most recent one is my antics this weekend. I spend Friday laid up with a cold, because at that point, the disease had not claimed my brain. But on Saturday, despite what I knew to be my better judgement, I went out. Not just for a quiet drink at the pub, oh no. I went clubbing. And stayed on the dancefloor for many hours, apparently to the silent ridicule of my friends. Which is fine, because I know I can’t dance, and don’t really care.

Then, having got home shattered at 5 am, I got up before noon, because no matter the circumstances, I can’t sleep past half eleven, and went round to my parents, to see relatives. And then we went for a trip up the London eye, where I took photos, and it was ace. But I got through the day on the leftover adrenaline of the night before, and made it home in a state of utter collapse.

Right now, I’m sitting at my desk, wishing I was dead.

Bane

Bright spot of the week: I finally own a copy of the finest horror novel I have ever read: BANE, by Joe Donnelly. You have no idea how happy I am to have finally acquired a copy – I’ve been looking for one for half a decade, ever since I first read a friend’s in 1996, by which time, it was already out of print.

BANE is one of only two books to disturb me sufficiently that I had to put it down and find some human company for a while, just because I was so unsettled. You can probably find a copy for yourself through the same place I did.

Volume

It’s Saturday, and I’m at work. Grim. Still despite the swearing and cursing and muttering “bastard fucking network” and “shitfucking machine” at various bits of computer hardware, there is one advantage. It’s sad and small, but it’s keeping me sane.

You see, I can’t sing. I know this. I’m not sufficiently stupid or evil to inflict my singing on anyone, unless I’m at the satge of drunk where I’m seconds from passing out anyway.

But I have an entire office building to myself, this morning. So I’ve got Nick Cave playing at immense volume and I’m singing along as loudly as I like.

I said it was small and sad, didn’t I?

Zombie

How is it that I can sleep for almost 12 hours, and then two days later, find myself staring at my screen thinking “must…sleep…soon”? Trying to decide whether or not to go clubbing with the rest of them tonight – am I so tired that I won’t make it, or is this just half-past-four-on-friday fatigue?

Sudden Coma

Last night, I intended to lie down for half an hour, until Andrew was done with the modem. I thought I’d use the time to do some planning for an on-line comics I’m currently assembling in my head. That was at about 8.

The next thing I knew my alarm was going off at 7:30 this morning. Apparently, I wasn’t over that jet lag like I thought I was.

Hypercomics

Opi8 has had a facelift. Go and read After Days of Passion. You life depends on it.

Well, no it doesn’t, but if you’re producing on-line comics and you’re still using conventional narrative, then you should pack up and go home now. You are old and your day is done. Men like Ben and Antony will be along to put you in the shade and show you up for the has-beens you are if you persist.

Strange Company

A Day in the Life of Strange Company. This made me alugh out loud. Strange Company was founded by my mates Hugh and Gordon, a couple of years back. At one point, I almost took a job with them, and would still like to work with them on something, one day when we’ve all got the time. Either way, I thought it was a good article – I remember the “before” part of the equation, and it’s nice to see the “after”, as the company grows into something bigger and better. And I really must get around to that trip to Edinburgh to catch up with old friends. Urgently.

Done

OK, I feel less sad now. It’s ten o’clock at night, the joy has left me, and now I just want to go home and collapse. But I no longer feel like I’m letting the side down by not getting everything I need to done for 9A. Although I’m sure one of my partners in crime will remind about something I said I’d have done weeks ago as soon as I next check my mail.