I meant to write nothing today. I am currently watching time bosh mi ov'r the head and work crash like a ship. my images won't load down onto blog and websites - the sacking of employees is a necessity before the company goes sinking 5,000 fathoms an' then some.
Mind you the dance is still contagious, like a still music. Three meetings next week and a harbour unnamed terror incognito! Or the seed of a trout. The clock is still fathomable as words tumble to page an' the rumble in my ruffled 'ead.
Tony Blair is post, or past, whatever! We have no opposition to New Labour. I shall roboticize myself in the new market for stringent figures, inhumaness, tighter deadlines, no pensions and no hope of a new job.
We are all administrators holding on to an England that lives in a memory or a poem like Jerusalem. The tighening of centralized power cannot escape the fall of identity. We hunt like sharks for sex to blight the headache of a postmodern nothingness, immanent and half existent.
Either that, the gym, beer, cigs,
start your own business
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