Afternoon.
Let's get right down to it, shall we?
Those of you who've suffered my ramblings for this long will be aware of how much I love writing and more - I hesitate to associate myself with the word for fear of arrogance - creative pastimes and occupations. While I don't hate my job exactly (there are times when I genuinely get a chance to do some good, even as a desk monkey), I yearn for something where I can flex my meagre mental muscle beyond tracking down an errant Staff Nurse who expects me to pinpoint a specific person when given nothing more to go on than the name "John Smith".*
Now I'll be the first to admit that I've got precisely fuck-all in the way of qualifications or degrees, but I do have a boundless enthusiasm for words and their arrangement on page, screen or shirt. So I'm trying to come up with a reasonable way of making some extra scratch off of that. I doubt anything I can nail together is going to be as popular as the sort of stuff you'll find over at SplitReason, but by the Ruinous Powers, I aim to try.
So with that in mind, if you have any requests or ideas towards shirts or hoodies or hats that you'd like emblazoned with one of the little doodles from my sketchbook (and I'm sure that the few people who actully read this will at one stage or another have been subjected to a forced viewing), give me a shout over on the Book of Face or at my email address, which you should already have.
Onto less horrible, moneygrubbing subjects.
I've been spending a lot of time online lately, and as a result I've been falling behind with my other projects, you know, the horrifically nerdy ones that involve videogames and modelling little plastic soldiers. This isn't a bad thing; in fact, I've begun to feel slightly less sociable, both online and in person. I do still have the occasional pang of regret that after that first time using something illegal and bad I came out of my shell. I miss my shell. It was small and dark and protected, with only the other voices for company. Anyway, the reason I mention this is because, as a result of some ill-advised (Shall we say fumbling and leave it there? Let's.) fumbling last night, I took a leisurely midnight walk along Creek Road and around the Greenwich Market square. Obviously this was well past the market's opening hours, and as such the only real company available was sporadic collections of drinkers casually hurling bottles at cars and being given a stern talking-to by equally inebriated but opposing groups. I never seem to have any trouble when ambulating in the vicinity of these particular examples of humanity, and tonight was no exception. I rather enjoyed the sense of detachment, truth be told. I suppose my bulk, the large, tattered fake-leather jacket with hood and half-smoked rollie hanging from the lips on my generally sour face may have contributed to the anonymity.
We really are terrible creatures, aren't we? I don't normally harp on about the state of the world (too big, too many people, not enough sacrificial altars to the Google Gods) beyond my standard phrases, ie "Bloody humans!" or "AUGH, mortals.", but it is becoming a bit much now. I don't have a nice big Tower of Doom to lock myself away in while I hurl burning crucifixes onto the Great Unwashed, all the while screaming, "WHERE IS YOUR PRECIOUS SKY-BULLY NOW!? WHERE IS HE!?" so it's probably time I started getting concerned.
...alright, I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, that Tower of Doom image has pretty much derailed my thought process, so I'm going to cut this blog short, roll myself a cigarette and find a nice dark corner in which I can chuckle quietly to myself.
Back soon and thanks for stopping by!
Love,
Odsox
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