While you were out

I got a new job.

I haven't started it yet, and I don't think I will be until at least January, but snakes alive I'm coming back to the south west, and that is just dandy as all get out.

Aside from that, I've not been up to much to be honest. Walking, mainly, which sounds incredibly boring, but it isn't; it can be pretty interesting. I enjoy listening to music a great deal, and I listen to it all the time; however if I'm doing something else with music on, I don't really hear it go in, a comforting buzz in the background. But when out walking you can let what you're listening to wash out all the thoughts from your brain and let it fill your world, and it's bloody incredible as you eat up the miles.

My back is ruined, in other news. The futon that has so kindly been donated to me to sleep has decided to revolt, pushing an offensive on the strongholds nestled between my vertebrae, bathing them in fire. I tried to appease the attackers though diplomacy and the exchange of free ideas, but my shouts and yelps for mercy fall onto deaf ears. It neither frowns nor smiles at my cries, and that is worse. It's efforts to turn my spine into something resembling a pile of tiny, wafer-thin china plates are not borne of anger or spite, but complete and frigid indifference. I sit on it now, the gravel-filled green fabric sits on the blue carpet like a haunted island. Taking a cursory glance around the room, my bloodshot eyes falling on an empty Kopparberg bottle, across the monitor to the fridge, upon it several bottles of cod liver oil capsules and vitamins and a Ryvita packet, to the huge and terrifying unused television (reminding so much of the Albatross, the cursed television that my erstwhile flatmate owned; weighing several tons, it's obsidian heart bent on our slow demise, it skulked in the corner of the room for a year, reading our thoughts.), which has a thick black and white blanket on it, which seems to be used as a cover for the futon. Almost as if it's been there all this time and I hadn't noticed. All the time just sat there whilst I fidgeted in agony. The blanket, there all the time, me only just noticing as I type this.

All the time.

Oh, God dammit.