So much noise, so much wind.

Inside I know that there is wind outside. I cannot feel it, but I can see its effects.

Inside I can listen to the sound of people talking to other people. Voices bend into each other and form some sort of sound that is currently existing as the background soundtrack to my life in these moments that I am currently living.

I’m sure that when I am outside the soundtrack will change to something else. Perhaps it won’t. I doubt that it will remain the same, but you never know with these things.

Where am I going? Why am I inside? Why would I be outside? Where is the exit to the thing that I am trying to find?

Am I trying to find something or am I spending some of the words here writing things that have no real connection to something else in this current moment?

I have spent a significant portion of the working day on hold. So much of my life today has been spent listening to hold music.

“welcome to this department, please hold whilst we transfer you through to another department.”

“Okay.”

Bam, back to being on hold. So much hold music, so much hold.

Maybe I could make a career out of being on hold. Write about the adventures and review the hold practices and music that each place has. This seems to be an untapped market.

I could really revolutionise business operations if I do this. The idea is now mine. IT does not belong to anyone else.

I am going to do this using a lot of elbow grease and an even larger amount of whimsy.

Yes, whimsy shall be the force of driving in this fruitful endeavour that covers many things, including LIFE and its many forms of knowing and unknowing in the showing of the going.

But how to start? How would I start? Where would I know where to start?

I guess the beginning is the best place to start, for then I can develop things. Rather be at the end though.

Of course this will mean that I will have to go on hold for a while in order to speak to someone at the other end of the line who would then instruct me in the best way to proceed, so long as it did not involve some sort of duck quackery, for that would be almost as foolish as many of the things that I write about and that is not something that we can have at the moment. It would not do.

I guess then I’d have to hold to find out why the suggestions were of an absurd nature. Not sure as to how far that would get me. Would need to hold again.

I hope that at my funeral they tell everyone to “please hold” and play a rotation of one particular Bernard Fanning song and one particular Pete Murray song.

Which ones? I won’t say!

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:44:60

A lot of my life has been spent on hold.

How odd.

Written at work.