Bill P. Godfrey et al

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Five minute think.

Here are the rules. Sit at your computer with your blogger editor ready, making sure that all lights and distractions are switched off. Set an alarm to ring in five minutes time. Type everything that goes through your mind until the alarm rings. Then hit the Publish button.

What a stupid idea. I had to do something. There goes my life, ticking away second by second waiting for the stupid bell to ring. The monitor has light.

Pens. I have gel pens. Ooh. I saw a hedgehog today. I didn't really, I just thought those words, I don't know why. Shaving is not fun. Why do we live here? Wouldn't it be better in the sky amoung the clouds.

I did the insurance. Insurrection. Take all my clothes off and get a can of Sprite from the fridge. Good job I'm living alone. I wonder if my mother will read this.

I can see the blinking light. Breaking the rules. It must be five minutes now. I'll keep it up for now. This is embarrassing. I bet people will think I'm a right nutter for typing all this out. Cloudy cloud cloud. What a nice cloud. This is stupid.

I can't think of anything clever auuugh. You can dance, you can dance having the time of your life. Here's a llama, there's a llama. Why am I thinking of songs? I should do that thing with the questions. Get the insurance. Why did I type that bit about taking my clothes off. Naked women.

That was fun! Now you try.


  • Okay. Here I go. [leans over, set's clock running... Now...]

    Hmm. Stroke beard. It's quiet other than the electrical whine and the occasional click-click-clicking of a lady's heals on the floor outside. And now my keyboard. My keyboard goes clickerty-clack. Well. Clickerty ratterty clack. Depends how fast I type as noise from outside makes me wonder - is it a dragon or a truck. A Truck would be safe, but a dragon would be fun. Particularly those cute ones from Ivor the Engine, oh Jones the steam, how removed from today's society you must be. BBC. On the sea shore. Dean Shaw ? The Shaw brothers used to write lots of pretty good computer games in my youth. Mostly for Altantis or Codemasters, I think. Maybe it was Mastertronic. I'm not entirely sure. Oooh. A whiring sound now. Suspect it's a floor polisher but maybe it's the aliens coming to take me back to their homeworld and perform all sorts of random experimentalismisticals on me. I hope they have warm hands. Warm hands are much better, but not when combined with a cold heart. Professor Cold Heart was the nemesis of the Carebears. I'm not entirely sure why. I don't feel that that was adequately explained. But that is the way with many things in life. Life. Don't talk to me about life - here I am, the brain the size of a planet. Plan ET? Phone Home! Be Good! Phone home. DING!

    There you go. My five minutes. Would you like to visit my mind sometime?

    By Blogger M., At 9:35 AM, November 17, 2005  

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