Another day sitting outside of the work building. Another day waiting for it to open so I can get in, and someone behind me is playing some of the worst music one can play at this hour of the morning. It’s great.
It’s not great.
I could sit anywhere else where there is seating available. I could sit on the stairs if I so wished. However, I chose here and here is where I am choosing to remain whilst I churn out a bunch of words in a particular order to and so on and so forth.
Getting closer to the end and I’m wondering if there is anything of value that I have put out. Anything of value that goes beyond the personal. I wonder. I think. I question my decisions.
I could go for another coffee, really. No money for it… for now. Perhaps later.
This music that’s playing is pretty ho-hum, really. Maybe not the worst music. Just boring. Dull. Lacking shape, lacking anything that it could genuinely offer. Sleepy music. I could go for something a bit more dangerous. Not something that is dangerous, mind you; just something that’s a bit more dangerous. Something that’ll actually say something beyond “I wanna shag you”, of which this music is.
Sitting here, thinking to myself. Looking at lights that look like reflections, though they aren’t. They just look that way. Reminds me of looking out of an office window and seeing the lights reflected back. All in lines, all spaced. All a pattern that appears interesting from some angles and menacing and foreboding from others.
This chair is cold and I’m appreciating that fact. It’s not a hot morning, but it’s nice to have a cold chair this morning. It sort of keeps the music at bay, which keeps on going. It keeps on going incessantly, trying to destroy my ears. It puts me to sleep, but there are some nice bits, and it’s kind of fun, too. And sometimes a bit of fun is a nice thing to have in a life.
Well, maybe fun is a nice thing to have most of the time. Probably is.
I’m suddenly reminded of walking through a housing estate from my way home from primary school. I’d wonder what was in the houses. I’d wonder about the place. It wasn’t always there, and then it was. It was this thing that just appeared and I’d walk through it occasionally, and it was interesting to me as a kid. Probably because it was somewhere new to walk through and explore and see. I’d think about the places and I’d think about how walking through it saved time, though it probably didn’t.
That housing estate was more interesting to me as a kid than this music is to me now, but this music is fun. Enjoyable, even. I could enjoy it at a gig and I could jump up and down to it. I should try and find out who it is.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 07:24:28
Around finishing this bit of writing the music that I was getting into stopped, and now the people playing it are onto something else. Oh well.
Written at work.
Stupidity Hole 