Listen to me
Listen to me, Stan Lee – urr... umm... or me.
I just checked the LiveJournal public profile listings thing, and realised I am only two places behind Stan Lee. Quite what he might be doing listed so far below George R R Martin is obviously a statistical anomaly, but still – I'm almost as famous in terms of the crappy posts I write as a comic book legend – and I'm not about to complain about that.
In other news, today was a remarkably OK day. Not brilliant, not great – just OK. Sometimes OK is good though – certainly better than horrendous, or dreadful. If you're wondering about how vague this post is, of course I'm talking about work, and of course I can't talk about it. Sometimes it's maddening, because it takes up perhaps two thirds of my waking hours each week. I end up writing acres of garbage about nothing in particular instead. Hey – at least I'm in the office this week, so you're being spared photos of train platforms on Instagram for a few days.
I'm still wondering what the hell to do about the whole blogging thing. At the moment I'm cross posting to Blogger, LiveJournal and Tumblr, and not really keeping up properly with any of them. I occasionally drop into Twitter (under my real name), but as soon as I post anything, I begin questioning the validity of having done so – the vast majority of people who use twitter are marketers, attention seekers, or bored journalists. There is no real “community” as such (and I know a certain French quasi-journalist will challenge me on this).
Actually, you don't really have to “keep up” with Blogger (or I don't), because nobody really reads my blog there. A few people are subscribed to the RSS feed, but that's really it. I guess the romantic part of me clings to Blogger because it's “real blogging” – it's where I started out years ago, before anybody had dreamed up any kind of social idiocy.
Back in the real world, the world and it's dog seemed intent on killing me this morning. Within 200 yards of leaving the house, three cars pulled out in front of me – one after the driver started to move, stopped, stared at me, and then put her foot down, narrowly missing me as I skidded to a halt in the centre of the road. A little further on a jogger ran out between two parked cars directly into my path – if I had been a car, he would have been dead. I shook my head as he flinched from the end of my mountain bike handlebars narrlowly missing his sleeve.
I haven't seen the lady across from the office for quite some time. Being on the road so often has curtailed the opportunity to glimpse the pretend love story. As soon as I see her next I'll breathlessly report that nothing else seems to have happened.
I guess that's all I have to report this evening. Quite possibly the most mundane post in some time. Must try harder.