October 28th, 2005


Too Much Coffee Man

Now I'm worried. Too much coffee to start with, nowhere near enough sleep even by my standards. Sat at my desk twitching and randomly spasming, stretching muscles to breaking point just so I can. Feels like if I could only stretch that bit more, to the point where I start fracturing bones, I'd be golden. Wouldn't have to repeat the damn thing every five minutes, hunting for a distraction that doesn't exist. Appetite also buggered, in that lunch involved a quarter of what was on the plate.

I know I was supposed to remember some things from Wednesday. I told them to grendelsmere who wrote them down, in real writing. Unfortunately, she's not been in touch to remind me what they are. Having a distributed memory only works if every part of that memory is willing to work with the main, or else the system falls apart.

Then again, given my head recently, nobody's surprised at that.

Too much to do, both sorting new things and fixing old. Too much to say, hunting people down to remind them of things or correcting for where my insanity-addled mind has caused me to chow down on foot tikka masala. Too much to organisetoo many disparate graphs and diagrams and ideas in my head.

And when I get home I've got two and a half K to write. Unless I can start patching things up instead, fixing the problems that are at least in part causing this whole mess.

Roll on Monday. And the vodka I'll be drinking once I'm done tonight. Calming with other alcohol doesn't work half as well.

I should have gone for Inspector Fuckup rather than Bernard. At least then I'd have more of an excuse for being such a meth.
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