I'm back, da dang, da, dada dah dang da dih dih dar dey, I'm back in the saddle again...
Starbuck back in his rightful place, sitting in front of his strangely whirring PC, complete with comforting lilac tinted screen display, and that unique disinfectant smell which seems to mysteriously get pumped out of the air vents.
Once more it feels like everything has slotted into place - sod all the chaos arising from moving house (again), or starting a new job and all the rest - all I needed was to be sitting in front of MY machine, with all the endearing faults that comes with it. Other computers messing up on me drive me up the bleedin' wall; when Windows Millennium edition, that oh-so-reliable operating system, goes tits-up on my beautifully bulky beast, its an interesting, sweetly smelling challenge, rather than an odorous stab in the guts. Bless its electronic heart.
Anyway, I've missed being able to write whenever I've wanted to write on this thing. Sod it, maybe its not just blogging I've missed, I've missed defragmenting the little fracker every few days in a futile attempt at squeezing an ounce more power out of its fully-streamlined innards. I've missed a machine of my own to geek on. (And I'd started to feel a little bit guilty continually messing with my dad's machine to ever greater heights of mess-up.)
Enough rambling - I've got loads I should be writing about. I've been accreting thoughts in this ole head of mine at an accelerating rate of late - I'm getting woozy, there's just so many unreleased fuzzy ponderings about nothing-much clouding my synaptic networks. Although, like all memories I strive to keep hold of, I guess most have been absorbed just a little too deeply, and will probably only be drawn to the surface late at night after a few too many Tesco Lagers.
Whatever, I've not got time to write just now. I've got a date with the Animatrix Second Renaissance - its sitting in my video recorder, giving me the big come-on. And what with going to see Matrix Revolutions tomorrow night (19:00 GMT), its a temptation I can't resist.
I am so fracking excited, I'm going to have to get my trousers laundered. I've been waiting desperately for this moment, for, oh, 6 months. Minus a few days.
All the thoughts, all the ideas, all the possibilities that I used to ramble on about on these pages when I had too much time on my hands - we'll soon see what was right, what was wrong, and what was total bollox.
Just don't go expecting a swift Revolutions report on these pages from Uncle Starbuck - we're taking mum and dad out on Thursday for a meal, so they'll probably be the first poor sods to have to endure/ignore my ravings, good or (perish the thought) bad.
And judging by the fact I've got several weeks of other stuff to talk about (moving house, yawn, the thing in the bedroom, snore, what the flipping trees look like in Autumn, zzzzz, the M-bleeding-40, more zzzz, the sun in the Tate Modern, mum, what was that, the London bunch of chancers, snore, Derren (not Darren V) Brown's secrets, et cetera, all my usual drivel - I bet you've been missing this!), maybe it'll be a while before I get back to the present day. I don't want this blog getting all skewed with a Memento-like time-frame. Although I have started tattoo'ing myself with amusing website links and ill-thought-out political rants.
Must go. Get a grip. End this stream of shite, Starbuck.
As Arnie would say, if asked what his favourite animal noise was - "I'll be back (bark)".