Hi.

This is an experiment into streams of consciousness and how mood affects them.

For good measure, the following is a list that is not formatted as a list. The reason for this is that it reads better and less monotonously than a bullet-point list would.

Let’s begin.

It’s Monday morning.
Frankly, I feel tired and annoyed.
I hate trains.
I’m listening to Jeremy Neale.
I am really tired.
I slept at 4:00am.
My external hard drive broke. I blame Windows for conducting an automatic update at 3:00am while I was converting this drive from NTFS to FAT.
Dude, all I wanted was to make it compatible with my MacBook Air.
My MacBook Air’s name is Salk.
I had to spend $206 on a 28-day train ticket this morning.
I had to provide a signature. I thought they only did PIN now?
I think I lost everything on my drive.
Oh, yeah, it was just seven years’ worth of photos, some old website design files, some old school assignments, and a backup of music I had on my PC anyway.
You know, I was thinking of buying a Mac Mini.
Or an iMac.
Not soon, though, as I don’t really need one right now.
But thanks Windows.
My drive is being checked and repaired at home. Maybe it’ll be alright when I come back from work.
I am late to work.
I mean, I usually come in at 8:00am.
But that’s what time I woke up.
Glorious.
No.
I am tired.
I haven’t eaten breakfast.
Staying home sounded good. It really did.
We had hackathon at work over the weekend. This basically involves two days of working on some projects to try and improve the website or make something totally awesome.
It was partially fun, and partially not.
I had to photograph two gigs on both nights.
I am really tired.
I haven’t sorted through some photos.
I saw DZ Deathrays.
They were really crazy and fun to watch.
There was a circle pit. I don’t think I have seen one in a while.
The girl next to me is drinking Red Bull. I can smell it.
Hmm.
I have almonds in my bag.
I’m listening to The Jungle Giants.
I had an alright weekend.
James came over yesterday.
I’m pretty tired.
I’ll be in at work at some time. Some time soon? Yeah.
I feel like a green tea latte, but, you know, milk overload.
I could probably do with a really nice beverage.
And I don’t mean coffee.
You know, I hope my drive is alright, though losing 500GB of stuff is less than awesome.
I want to go to London.
I want to go to San Francisco.
I really like the iPhone 5c. I don’t really care that everyone thinks it is plastic and “lulz”. It’s affordable and it suits my needs and my personality to some extent.
I am tired, yeah, I have said that already.
My friend Jamie gave me a book of Robert Frost poems for my birthday. I have yet to delve into it and read it all.
I love poetry.
I could call this a poem.
A free verse one, a re-telling, of a strange and quaint weekend.
As I write, I notice my prose and my voice changing, developing,
Into a poem,
Where my last phrases did not end with period markers,
Or sentence endings,
But commas instead.
Listening to music as I force my way through a bland train ride,
The scent of Red Bull disappeared,
The reggae sounds of Lime Cordiale bubbling in my ears from the heart of my music machine.
An iPod, they called it, but I named mine Gumdrop, then Peppermint,
But in my mind I see “waterlemon”,
Much like a spoonerism.
I’m wearing a jacket that shines, looks like plastic, looks like foil,
And I could just as easily get off this train and turn back around,
Spend the rest of the day in a cafe,
But I’m keeping on going,
And the train rolls along and I can call it a day that hasn’t started yet.
I broke into poem, like people break into song,
And the train will brake in the city, and I’ll alight,
And, second of June, it will be the first train ride of many in a month of thirty days.
Goodbye, so long, thanks for all the fish,
And all the zany things falling from the sky.
Sky, you lied, yesterday it looked like rain,
But at least I believed you were indecisive and didn’t bring my plastic dome on a stick,
So don’t rain,
Don’t rain,
Then you can come back again.
Dusk will be pretty.

I drank over seventeen cups of tea at hackathon.