04.01.2010 - 4:04 p.m.

Slabular cheeses of density and crumbiness vs sphericular cheeses in waxy coats

which is more likely to survive the bursting of the dykes which hold back the Ijsselmeer ? we may laugh at this watery peril from the safety of our computers but dedicated people dedicate time and energy to knowing these things so we don't have to, their unwritten service to dairy based knowledge ensures their position as the greatest of the 'lesser' scientists, the one's who don't get films made after them. This also explains why many dutch cheeses come complete with globular cavities, the lesser the density the easier it is to scoop up the floating cheeses with nets from your rescue boats.

And now i find myself back at work and again flogging the blog to pass the time, i looked to the news aggregators for some inspiration, being as i am currently bereft of musely intervention, but the news only made me sad at the continuing stupidity of the world, failing with externaleyes i turned inwards to investigate the inner world of wonder, having spent last night's dark period of shuteye smoking herb with my friends who later turned out to be time travelling robots working under my direction as we toiled on preventing some terrible time-crossing radiological disaster happening to the world we were on (which looked suspiciously like bits of the netherlands i've visited), i finally dispatched them into the time streams with relevent instructions and i felt quite good about myself for being so proactive and useful, this ended as soon as i was woken in the middle of the night (06.30hrs) to get up and go to work.

On the happy side my mate who's wearing camo in the 'ghan is still alive and facebooking, this is a good thing as he was one of the time travelling robots, although i think that kind of physical makeup would happily increase his odds of getting through the current (and any future) tour unscathed.

Anyway, i've been let down by my innervision, i think it works best when i'm actually asleep or stupendously tired and being kept awake pharmartificially, which i suppose is just akin to dreaming with my eyes open, it certainly allows for a more surreal view of reality.

We once experienced an actual reality intervention in a club one morning, having travelled from another club which closed at 6am, and quite determined to maintain our exposure to darkness, loud music and drugs for as long as possible (in south london it is possible to club-hop from friday night to monday morning) we entered the morning club about 6.15am while it was still dark outside, we proceeded to the bar and bought our alcohol being served in a discreet manner in accordance (or avoidance) with licencing regulations, ate more pills and started dancing. There was a fire escape on one side of the dancefloor, hidden in the gloom and pulsating lights, we paid it no heed. At some point a body leant on the pushbar of the fire doors and they swung open onto the pavement, in the seconds before a bouncer closed the doors again we were treated to a bright (too bright) sunny sunday morning (about 8am), complete with puzzled members of the public queuing for buses, carrying newspapers, bottles of milk and packs of bacon on their way home for a relaxing sunday, peering into our own personal sweaty, noisy hell with a look of momentary confusion i'll carry with me for ever, club culture meets mr jones. Mr jones it seems was assumedly previously unaware that club culture was going on this close to what he perceived as normal reality, especially on a sunday morning, what mr jones actually thought we'll never know, he didn't look too impressed.

Maybe he was a glyndebourne man

Hopefully innervision will be reinstated soonish, i'm sure it would return if i had some conducive company, the straights here are a little too straight, it's all very well saying you've watched monty python or mighty boosh but if you don't extemporise the values held therein you're not much use to me as a sounding board of humour. Being funny on your own is like wanking (not that there's anything wrong with that) as opposed to full on pokey sex, in that it's generally more exciting and diverse with someone else present, on this basis dairyland is starting to look a lot more sordid, containing as it does our collectivised intellectual masturbatory output.

But if you can't love yourself philosophically or physically how can you begin to love someone else on the same terms ? I'm stopping here because the yellow brick word path unfolding before me is both long, diverse, too boring and undoubtedly full of tales of narcissistic weirdos who can only love themselves to the exclusion of all others, bollox to them. If you've something worth sharing then share it, if you think it has worth and no-one else does then keep it to yourself until you find someone to share it with, don't necessarily think you're the height of sophistication just because you can burp the alphabet.

In a word, scarapululosity