Tappity tap tap tap. Coffee number two is sitting next to me. It awaits. I await.

Sitting here. Looking beyond the desk. Looking at the coffee, but only in the peripheral vision that is all my own.

Timing. Looking at the time. Tapping my feet. Looking at the time whilst tapping my feet. Feeling the beat. There is a beat in my ears and it does not rotate. Pretty solid, as far as beats go. What a beat.

Coffee, dark and brown. Nasty, nasty coffee, but getting the job done. Need to fight off the tyranny of sleep for the next many hours. Need to get to the home. Need to eat. Need to get through the day of work. Need to stop looking at things that I need. What a bout wants instead?

Want to play some games. Want to not be here. Would rather be there. Would rather listen to something that does not involve people having hair. I want to listen to a hairless band. Completely without hair. Hair absent. I want to listen to a band that is devoid of the physical manifestation of hair. Perhaps also devoid of the ethereal manifestation also.

I want to listen to whatever it is that I just so happen to be listening to at this current moment. Kind of bluesy. Kind of a chaotic, mad sounding recording. Very all over the place, yet at the same time very tight and controlled. Very wonderful stuff. Very unconventional, but also conventionally conventional. Makes me tap along but shaking my leg, although my leg moves to a rhythm, all of its own.

Almost sounds like a band playing to not go right over the edge. Almost.

Sitting. Waiting. More coffee. Coffee not done. Looking at the desk. Made of wood. Wood and metal. Patterns in it. Interesting, kind of in a way. Feels like wood that has had some sort of layer applied to it to prevent it from roughing everything up. Kind of feels like a desk. It has a mouse.

It has a mouse and next to the mouse is a keyboard. There is a maddening sound. Is that a guitar or a piano? Or is it a guitar emulating a piano? It has to be something and that something is producing a sound that sounds like something that it may not be. Perhaps it is what it is but it has assumed a form that implies what it is not,.

Gotta get back. Gotta get a load of this. Gotta do some other things. Gotta get going toward another source of sound. But not yet. Gotta wake up. Soon gotta get goin’… something else and something or other.

Gotta make sure that I don’t descend into the galaxy of my own creation. Need to remain humble. Don’t boast about the greatness of one’s own mess. Better to boast about the deliciously awful coffee that is next to me. Still not done with it. Need to change ghats.

But why?

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:23:32

I was rather tired when I wrote this.

Still am.

Written at work.