when i was younger i believed that words could solve anything because so many things were broken by them. But now i know that violence is the only true mechanism for relief.

what we have to remember is that there are no private places left anymore. even the mind has become public property. and the badgers don't like it. that's all i'm saying.

Is it enough not to be bothered during your working hours? Can it really have come to this irate boredom?
The badgers are restless and sense the upcoming home move, again.

well. here we are again. I have a new job, i would like to say it's a vivid and intense insight into the modern diaspora that is 21st century guy's soul. Unfortunately it's just the same old crap in a nasty polythene wrapper, the sort that's fallen down the back of the fridge and reappears to stick to a furry slipper.
the toilets are nice and there is endless fresh water to drink, so the badgers are happy as they are insisting on accompanying me every day.

there are complex things going on... I'm currently doing a job that is so silly it makes me worried that my mam will find out. You know those really annoying pieces of crap mail that you get in your bank statements, the ones that say "extend your credit and you're ours for life" etc. Well, I'm writing them... and it's tough going. How many ways can you say "Hoy get a credit card now?" - up to now about 4 I reckon. Still, it pays the rent as they say. And actually it's quite amusing seeing how many ridiculous ways I can write the words so they don't quite make sense but the client can't quite say why... odd world.
I'm thinking of including a few pics of the badgers in them as an incentive. "Get a card, get a badger..." Although i suspect the response will be an overwhelming, "Badgers, we don't need your stinking badgers..."
There's a pair of kippers in the fridge calling me.

...it started in my head, behind my eyes, but now it's migrated down my back. To my arse, actually.
I know the cause of it. saturday night a whole bunch of black guys had a huge party next door, not that it was their house, they just tied up the woman who lives there and drank her booze and partied till dawn to her music, mostly country and western, an interesting sight.
South Africa tires me, I feel the call of the open road, again. It's very tiring this wanderlust thing.
The badgers are making overtures to return, Flounders and halibut on the doorstep in the morning, night long serenades and good old-fashioned cod-slapping dances. It's all so reminiscent of the 20th century. ~Sigh.

will anybody read this? probably not, i promised myself i'd stop writing here and have been quite good at keeping away.
Life is so dull, ho hum... and it's nearly 2007, stupid looking number, never liked 7.
The badgers have finally left home for good so, other than a surplus of fish products, there's very little to distract me these days... tsk.