Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Peeving
But it's June. Is this information not public? Why is it behaving like October outside? And inside, for that matter?
Jackson exonerated. Made me happy, although this was tempered by a) the lingering doubt that says of course he might have done something, even if he didn't really know what he was doing and b) the knowledge that he remains entirely fucked, and will never recover from this or indeed from the last forty years. There isn't really any gloating to be done (well, maybe a leedle bit with regards that nasty prosecutor Sneddon) because it's just been a catalogue of grimness. The mother is certainly deranged, and deserves nothing, and should probably be grateful to have custody of her kids at all. Snif.
Oh, dear. I'm putting off doing this corporate leaflet thing. I'm sure I can do it but I have never done this, and it's the antithesis of my natural textual sprawliness and aside from anything else very, very boring. I must not flinch, though. Logistics. Bullet points. Overview. Aspirational. One-word sentences. Doddle.
Actually, I am pissed off. Seething. Mostly at myself, but inevitably others have contributed. And I have to swallow it in the interests of preservation of things the way they are, whether or not that's worth anything. Can't even blame hormones any more. Or can I? I could blame my genes instead, of course. That's the fashion nowadays.
Jackson exonerated. Made me happy, although this was tempered by a) the lingering doubt that says of course he might have done something, even if he didn't really know what he was doing and b) the knowledge that he remains entirely fucked, and will never recover from this or indeed from the last forty years. There isn't really any gloating to be done (well, maybe a leedle bit with regards that nasty prosecutor Sneddon) because it's just been a catalogue of grimness. The mother is certainly deranged, and deserves nothing, and should probably be grateful to have custody of her kids at all. Snif.
Oh, dear. I'm putting off doing this corporate leaflet thing. I'm sure I can do it but I have never done this, and it's the antithesis of my natural textual sprawliness and aside from anything else very, very boring. I must not flinch, though. Logistics. Bullet points. Overview. Aspirational. One-word sentences. Doddle.
Actually, I am pissed off. Seething. Mostly at myself, but inevitably others have contributed. And I have to swallow it in the interests of preservation of things the way they are, whether or not that's worth anything. Can't even blame hormones any more. Or can I? I could blame my genes instead, of course. That's the fashion nowadays.
