Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Elephant in the Room

Clearly, I need to write things down. Document. Measured. It is not just my personal views, my opinions. On the hill, there are monsters. The pound sign animated as a demon, a grossly arrogant, violent beast, teeth spattered by tears of blood. All in my hands, the control of which. No spells to cast...

The problem comes from my own behaviour, but this has been described before. I am aware of the money issues, I face the figures every day, each thought is balanced by their foot-tapping, their heavy sighs. And yet letters are dismissed, reminders forgotten. Somewhere in the head is the reality button, ready to be exploded...I should not be trusted by others, clearly...

Unfortunately I cannot be deemed anonymous or unique in this regard. My diary is blank because I have determined it so. The excused are examples of revisionism. I am not innocent. Consequences will probably come later, like shadows, like the movement of a sundial, the passing of inevitablity. Encroaching, there's a term. On my heel turned, footsteps away from the one route out, or the one route deeper within...

Somewhere in this room sits an elephant. He seeps through the letterbox, hangs from the windowledge, lies under the bed amongst the computer equipment and coffee cups. I should be acting responsibly, or more than this.

The previous twelve months have had their certain character. One wonders what beasts will be unleashed come January...