A precursor to insomnia, probably

Sometimes, I really wish the world would just stop and let me catch up. All things considered, I'm sure I must be at least a few revolutions behind.

Or are there revolutions these days? All I seem to experience are blurs, between one thing and another. What happens in between, I'm not quite sure - I'd venture to suggest 'stuff', but that sounds overly specific. And I'm not even sure that anything does happen in between, since by the end of a blur I seem to find that all sorts of things have instead failed to happen and I'm wishing the world would just stop and let me catch up.

Damn. That must be what's happened again. That's usually what marks the end of a blur; and the beginning of the next.

Sometimes, though, it isn't suddenly noticing that the steady accretion of things gone un-done has become too large to be comfortably ignored (no matter how hard you try). Sometimes it's noticing that some potentially significant thing you actually have done (often inadvertently, since why would anyone do anything significant on purpose? You'd only be creating trouble for yourself) has reached un-ignorable levels of significance. I think that might have happened too.

A dual blur, then. The metaphysical equivalent of a double booking, minus anyone who might apologise.

Hmph.

I hate dual blurs.

The contractual obligation post

Erm, I suppose writing my three posts for the week all on the same day probably wasn't really in the spirit of that promise thingy, was it? [Who are you asking, exactly? Oh, leave me alone, it was you who got me into this mess in the first place. Me? I thought I was just a postmodern affectation. Yes. Yes. We're not getting into that again]. And now here the third post is, consisting mostly of vaguely apologetic mutterings about not yet reviving Not 4'33". Great.

So, erm, yes, if I could just say one small thing in my defence... well, that would at least make the situation a little better, I suppose. Shame I can't really, then. Though quite who really cares anyway...

Still, to anyone who does:

Um, sorry. There definitely won't be anything on Not 4'33" for another few days, but things are still afoot. Also, yes, that is both entirely true and more grammatical than it sounds.


In other non-news: I was thinking about Sandinistas yesterday. Not because I have any particularly abiding interest in Nicaraguan Marxist revolutionaries, I was just, um, idly wondering what sort of things might live in sand.

Er, obviously, I didn't think they really lived in sand (necessarily). It was just a bad pun. And I was at least dimly aware that they were some kind of Central/South American revolutionaries, and that I should probably know a little more. At the very least whether they really did live in sand, for instance. So I googled them. The sand thing was a bit inconclusive.

Anyway, they're not the kind of thing you usually think too much about, are they, Sandinistas? So it was a bit weird to see this article in today's Guardian.

Sometimes you could almost be forgiven for thinking life isn't really so random after all.

[Shudders]

I mean, God, you'd hate to think it was this way on purpose...