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Two more hours of overtime tonight. The office is quiet after about half five. I can get on with some more urgent work, the work that I have a deadline for that's in the future. Couldn't get it started before 5. Countless small emements of ad-hoc bullshit thrown my way, testing a small change to a calculation. Not even a fun calculation, stopping at multiplication. The kind of maths that we let statisticians use, if they promise to go carefully. Time consuming rather than taxing. And unfortunately, it's taking away time that I want to be using to think. Ideas for eyebeams — which I have not forgotten about, but may take a couple of days.

The quite office reminded me of Germany. So did biking home in the dark and the rain. Which is rather odd, because I never biked over there. On the other hand I left the office at about the same time, ate at about the same time I did today. Strangely familiar to me. Streetlights and black sky, rain in the air, breath fogging in the breeze. Though no u-bahn to ride home. Nostalgia.

Lack of sleep couldn't have helped. Woke up at 6 for no good reason. Half-slept until my phone whined about being out of battery, got up just enough to turn it off and crawl back into bed, but no sleep. Three and a half hours. Wunderbar. So I'm on zero time now. Odd sentances come out and only afterwards do I realise I'm talking in a thick German accent with way too many Deutsche words incorporated in what I say. I always get like this when I'm low on sleep. Want to go out into the night with twenty fags and my coat and my dictaphone, pounding streets in some city, asphalt under steeletoed boots, reflection of streetlights better than any kind of daylight. Thoughts. Memories. Random ideas cascading into each other. Chains of memories from other mes. Alter mes. Under the rainclouds and the glow of the streetlights, walking and waiting for the storm to break.

Rain on the window. I'm waiting for thunder.


( 1 informant — We want information! )
Mar. 10th, 2004 07:05 pm (UTC)
I find myself totally empathizing with that whole feeling of being alone at work. When I go in on Saturdays [or the rare Sunday here and there] I'm usually all by myself. No noise, no other-cubicle-presence, no interuptions. Usually I pop in the fastest EBM and industrial I can think of and bang out work at 115% efficiency. It's the only time I feel good about work, until I realize that said work is eating up my precious weekend time...
( 1 informant — We want information! )



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