Where’s The Love Y’all?

Travelling back to Maidenhead isn’t as meaningful as travelling back to Grotton. I am writing on a train again. It’s the most beautiful feeling in the world, like I’m just going to keep writing until it’s over. It is one of those First Great Western trains with tall seats and the sun light is overpowering the reflections in the window. You know the sort! I’m typing private.

My new ‘executive’ position has been keeping me very busy but it’s starting to kick in just how far away I am from everything I used to know. Home. People. Friends. Friend. You. I’m getting all muddled up over when people can come and visit me at weekends and if I’m not careful nobody will end up coming at all.

WORKING FOR MARS

The pressure of working full time isn’t really a pressure at all. I have everything I need. Water. Freedom. Chocolate. I like my colleagues. I enjoy the work. Everything’s smooth. One of the first tasks I have been allocated that could be described as a ‘project’ involves hacking together some extensions for the SupportSuite ticketing software. I am being paid real money to program in PHP. l33t.

I was working out of the office for three days of last week. I could get used to rolling out of bed at eight twenty five for an eight thirty start. Sadly, I have started work at the new office in SLOUGH this week - a far cry from the ghostly industrial estate in Reading that acted as my host for the last three weeks. Last three. Past three. Fifteen minutes.

I SAW

A cloud shaped like a palm tree.

Lightning taking over the sky on every side of the thicket.

A man running up an escalator the wrong way, going nowhere.

The tip of my finger as I rested it against the side of the sun.

A carousel of old friends spinning around my summer-sweet dreams.

People holding hands as they walk into the sunset. It was imagination. I wish it would really happen. It was pretty.

A trivial joke passed between younger people. We were younger once. Bitten.

Oh, and it should go without saying: -

IF YOU ARE NICE TO ME, I WILL GIVE YOU LOTS OF FREE CHOCOLATE.

This was

Not

Thomas: in the script.

$ bash

russetho@home:/# make me

…

russetho@home:/# make me complete

I AM NOT COMPLETE. I have not eaten anything nutritious today.

Meat me at the station.

I’ve mended myself using a bandage and a sprinkle of autumn.

“I don’t KNOW!”