Tuesday, 31 March 2015

Thursday, 19 March 2015

Friday, 13 February 2015

Thursday, 5 February 2015

Monday, 12 January 2015

The Man with No Ideas

The Man with No Ideas lay on his sofa and thought.

"What do I do?" he wondered.

It is a sad fact that the Man with No Ideas spent most of his time doing this. In thirty years he had never come up with a single idea of his own. Whenever he spent time with his friends he always went along with what they suggested, drank what they drank, ate what they ate. All his clothes were made up of outfits he'd seen on mannequins in shop windows and the inside of his house was a complete replica of a home decoration magazine cover he'd seen once.

'All I want" he thought "is one idea of my own."

Suddenly, he felt a tingling at the bottom of his spine that travelled up to his neck and onto his head - making all his hairs stand on end. Then his nose started to tingle uncontrollably but he didn't need to sneeze. Finally he felt a strange sensation in his stomach, as if a hundred butterflies had all lifted off at once. Just when he thought he couldn't stand it anymore, he leapt up off the sofa, flung his hands in the air and cried out:

"I know!"

Wednesday, 3 September 2014

Diary Entry 1 - Death

A good friend has become increasingly morbid of late. Faced with the realisation of her inevitable demise she seeks reassurance from those around her; unfortunately, as we work together, that often includes me.

"You know we're all going to die, right?" It's an odd way to start a conversation but at least it's honest.

"Yes." I reply, looking up from a particularly dull Excel spreadsheet. "I tend not too think about it too much."

"How? How can you just ignore it?" There's a look in her eyes - an interesting mixture - equal parts mania and melancholy. I sigh heavily.

"In much the same way that I'm now going to ignore you." I reply, returning to little slice of hell on Earth Bill Gates has so lovingly crafted for me.

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Mark vs Blackbird

The following is not a metaphor. I'm not trying to make some grand statement about the conflict between humanity and nature. It doesn't provide a profound insight into my innermost thoughts and feelings. This is a literal tale of the living hell my life has become.

There is a Blackbird.