I’ve been sitting here at work doing nothing other than working and I feel that if I’m going to keep on sitting here, waiting for the ability to drive home, them I may as well try and make something of the time, lest I don’t and spend more time being lazy when I’ve a lot of stuff I can do and want to do.

However, both unsurprisingly and unsurprisingly, I’ve not much of an idea as to what I want to do in this particular moment, so instead of doing something I’m just going to bank on the keys and see what comes out as that seems to be a good way of getting things done, even if they have no relevancy, meaning or intent other than writing for the love of writing. I guess that is something worth writing about, but right now… well, I guess that is what I am writing about. However, instead of expressing that in a direct fashion, I’m instead just going to keep on trying to find something.

I’ll look for that little thread hanging out of the sweater so I can unravel it whilst turning it into something new and thus claim that I’m recontextualising the sweater. Instant art that is, and anyone who dares defy this reasoning is most certainly in for a world of something that isn’t recontextualisation, unless they are, in which case I don’t know what I’m going on about. Once more, it can be argued that that isn’t too far from the norm here on this space of The Internet, but there are a lot of things that can and cannot be argued, so I’m just going to pretend something else and let myself drift away on clouds written by the scratches in the sky and hope that it all leads to better situations for all of those who need them.

Now, where was I going with this?

To be honest, I’m not really sure. I’m sure that there was something of which I was trying to point our or underline, but perhaps it is now lost to the something of something else.

I could go back and read everything that I’ve written thus far, but that would take time and instead I’d rather just go on and try and turn this all around. However… no, wait.

It’s soon time to head home and that means that I only have a few more words in which I need to be able to wrap this all up. Perhaps this is a taciturn admission that I’m in a mood that may be described as positive, but I really don’t know. I don’t know anymore. What I do know is that soon I will be heading home and that is something that makes me happier than I was before, although it more would more fair to say that it’s not so much happiness, but instead a slight joy that warms the base of my heart whilst I sit here typing away.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:54:54

My wrist was hurting whilst I wrote this, which may explain some of how it turned out. Maybe. Not sure.

Written at work.