Monday, July 11, 2005
What ev err
In which Bee refrains from posting at any length because it will descend into self-centred implosive whinge about money, anger, frustration, inertia and the postman leaving the gate open.
I must try and take some pretty pictures. It's just too damn hot. And I don't know how to charge the batteries. And if I'm going to take pictures of anything I haven't already taken pictures of I'll have to actually leave the house which I'd rather not do because it's so damn hot and also I seem to propagating some new late-twenties-onset strain of agoraphobia. And - not that I could take the dog with me anyway, but the fields I used to run him in this time last year are still full of sheep and now up for sale, with 'development potential'. This is depressing on at least eight and a half levels.
But moreover I wish I could say or do something for people in the thick of it in London. It's just impossible. I don't know if that's my inadequacy or just that it's a dusty junk-filled corner of human nature that hardly anyone is up to tackling, but it's unpleasant, whichever.
Fucking everything.
I must try and take some pretty pictures. It's just too damn hot. And I don't know how to charge the batteries. And if I'm going to take pictures of anything I haven't already taken pictures of I'll have to actually leave the house which I'd rather not do because it's so damn hot and also I seem to propagating some new late-twenties-onset strain of agoraphobia. And - not that I could take the dog with me anyway, but the fields I used to run him in this time last year are still full of sheep and now up for sale, with 'development potential'. This is depressing on at least eight and a half levels.
But moreover I wish I could say or do something for people in the thick of it in London. It's just impossible. I don't know if that's my inadequacy or just that it's a dusty junk-filled corner of human nature that hardly anyone is up to tackling, but it's unpleasant, whichever.
Fucking everything.
