God, how come London's got so bleedin' cold again. It was so very nice a month or so back. So pleasant. The warmth from the IR-radiation blasts of the day were seeping into the night.
Now I'm sitting here shaking like a shiverer mouse. And I don't think I've spontaneously mutated into a dysmyelinated phenotype.
That would be ridiculous.
Nah, I'm sure that it never used to get this cold at this time of year a few hundred years from now.
Sitting here shivering, typing, trying to remember what I'd already typed before my computer decided to dump the contents of the browser. Scavenging over old memories, old inspirations, but finding only detritus. Maybe my original post was this bad. Maybe recycling a post exponentiates it's qualities, in whatever direction.
I was going to mention Sentry, the polished & honed piece of nostalgia that I downloaded last night. It is good. Too good - I must desist. I have only played a few levels. Maybe I will lose interest. Maybe it will let me down.
I was going to mention Themroc's "Beyond These Things", today's £9.99 prescription to alleviate my suffering from the Do-It-All music. (My PC is refusing to play the godforsaken Do-It-All clip, so I can't even thrash the thing out of my head.)
I was going to mention my suspicions regarding an author Jeff Noon, of whom I had not heard before today, basing his entire oeuvre around my life, and that of my fellow travellers through time / musicology. Or maybe not. He has not registered within me; there is no pointer pointing at his position within my mental free-space. My friend Matt is a fan of his works of science so-called-fiction, and has etched some disturbing parallels across my mind. Maybe I am shorting-out on this. When I get the time, I will have to investigate the website www.jeffnoon.com further, maybe put my mind at rest...
Something is afoot.
And it's on the end of my leg.