i am anna's slowly numbing brain..

Huh. Thought I’d have loads to say today. Not so convinced now. No wait...Kalee’s having a baby in four day’s time! That was pretty much the funnest part of my whole day – getting an email from her…and also, singing every alanis song I can remember all the words to while in the shower when I got home.

Ok, I know its getting pretty dull, all my talk about how much I hate my job.

I had my very own fight club moment yesterday though…shit, I guess I haven’t been on here in a while……well, I was at work, sorting out a bunch of newspapers……(shit, sorry, suddenly its climbing up the walls….not sure radiohead is the best plan right now, specially considering how long ago it was that phil separated me from them….)….oh well….so I’m at work, handing out the FT, the Sun, the horror of a Daily Mail (the front page headline was enough for me today to induce the instant sick-feeling: “Now They want to make Aborted Babies into Mothers), Way to inform the public.

Lesson one in objectivity: Don’t use the word ‘they’ as your sole pronoun in a title sentence – it implies some kind of automatic, assumed enemy. (Note, UK Press: You’re perfectly capable of creating enemies with your opening paragraphs, lets leave some surprise til then, hey?)


So anyways…
I put the Times down on someone’s desk, and saw a lead headline on the front cover, promising the deepest darkest secrets of those who keep internet diaries…bloggers, as they call themselves.

And here we are. Edward Norton could so easily have been the scrawny, underfed guy in grey=ened shirt and semi-undone tie, in the mid-page photo. He’s up late, in his apartment, all other lights in the building are off. He’s clearly a loser with no family or lover.

And here I was, putting this paper down on the desk of a man who, after five minutes of acquaintance with him, you can happily make the otherwise insufferable presumption that no other person in your world could possibly understand this fictional model in the photo less.

I felt bad for him that he has no such equivalent outlet for his thoughts. Nor (this is the insufferable part..) in all likelihood, that great a number of thoughts, even when gathered, which would require such ventilation.

And I felt sly, like I know some kind of truth, about the depth of the falsehood represented on the double-page feature in this, the daily supplement for those who have slightly longer commuter trains into London that most.

He never read it.

Nor did I. I think perhaps if I had, I wouldn’t be here just now…..