LAST NIGHT I WROTE OUT AN EXTENSIVE POST. Now, by clear light of day it seems exceedingly longwinded and I'm loath to sit here typing all that out. Today I've been sorting through rubbish (my possessions~ haha!!) in the search for the right paperwork with which to furnish one of my creditors. The task is now done. And I'm merely killing time? Relaxing? Procrastinating actually photocopying said piece of paper and sending it, with another with a couple of boxes ticked or exxed back to whatever company. Man ~paper! If only they could have seen ahead when we were still engraving replica birds' feet in cylinders of clay these mountainous avalanches of forestfellingly useless paper that trail us throughout our everyday existence uselessly mouldering in bags and cabinets and drawers ~some considered so valuable they're airlocked behind several inches of lead~ this is the stuff our very existence is made of. Even in this so-called age of the fibreoptic worldwide internet connexion paper still rules. And whoever predicted that with the rise of computers would come the fall of paper must be turning in his grave. Computers waste more paper than anything else in the world. And the records they store and create are almost invalid without a "hard copy" to back them up, prove that they are real. Anyone who's suffered a long period of drug dependency or mental illness will have noticed the bulk of files upon which their very existence is supposedly recorded. The KGB and Stazi archived enormous bulks of basically malicious gossip against anyone who seemed too individual for their totalitarian political system ... and so I could go on but this rant has to end somewhere.
Paper!
Aaarrghhh~kkk!
12 hours ago
16 comments:
I'd like to leave a comment here, but first I have to print the post. I can't read anything on my computer screen. The glare kills me.
glare is a killer. you wanna terminate your screen and replace for a cool blue mellow one.
that does not glare at you
have a good read!
that really was me
why did my name have to come out in black??
love the funky goldfish btw
I hate paper!
I have a rule at work: If it's important, somebody else has a copy.
I also have the same attitude to meetings: If its important, someone else will be there to take notes.
The exception to my paper rule is toilet paper - its hard to wipe your bum with a computer monitor...
Hi Gledwood, thanks for visiting Wee Cuppa Tea, hope you enjoy our stories! I checked out your other blogs and videos and can see that writing helps you get through your life...one day at a time.
And I agree about too much bumpf! When computers were introduced at my work they created volumes of paper as everyone kept redoing pages and reprinting and of course, everyone wanted a hard copy to put in a file somewhere, sheeesh.
Jungle: do you know what you just told me a top tip there ...
only thing is, imagine if you're the one with the only copy of something real important (e.g. a phone number ..?)
knowledge is power as well
and paper preserves knowledge
(sometimes you just can't win)
boh!
hopscotch: also printers always have that paperbin beside them for all the mistakes. pieces of paper with little more than an *sterisk on them etc ... computers make SO MANY errors it's unbelievable!!
great blog you've got, definitely!
& i much prefer tea to coffee btw. it is an effortlessly superior drink
LOL
when u said sorting out ur rubbish i really thought u were talking abt ur garbage :D whahah :D
how have u been doin'?
btw abt the black nickname thing! it happened to me too! some kind of error it was or something :S hmmm...
I know guys who have nightmares about being buried in paper.
There is also a mental disorder where you are afraid to throw away papers.
I forget the name of it...I wish I would think of it, because I think I sorta/kinda HAVE it...
No! Edyta!! I meant both!! Literally my rubbish ie empty baked bean tins from inside my bed and overflowing pie-cases (that's ashtrays to you darling) etc. As well as sorting possessions.
because I HAD TO
but it was not a dull day
at all!
seriously ...
Zen: you're getting me worried now. I think I might have it too
THEY SAY TIME IS MONEY. CLICHE, CLICHE. So how come I seem to have so very much of the first commodity without ever getting paid very much of the second? Come on, somebody. Don't explain this limp load of verbal poppycock. Just pay me. A nice purple-factored £20 note would do the trick rather pleasantly. Provided there's somebody around to commit alchemy.
For that's all money means to junkies. Notes become magic passports to those tiny topknotted polythene bags of heroin.
***
NIGHT. No idea of the hour. Matran and Laundretta have been up and about for hours which tells me it's late. They are two of the most antisocial people I have ever met. Every time she returns home, which is often, (she's always popping out ofr drinks and cigarettes) - she comes stomping back upstairs and bursts into their room almost falling over (yet again). He has been periodically yelling and exclaiming "Don't f--- with me," (one of his catchphrases; the others are too disgusting to repeat). Both of them go stomping on the ceiling to a ridiculous degree. Laundretta says the guy downstairs from them has made a very vusial pass when "coming" out of the bathroom. Then again she says such stuff about most men. Earlier she was going nuts because she couldn't find her phone. Matran has sold her phones before to get more crack at five, six, seven in the morning - whatever time her whorehouse earnings run out.
Cars are whooshing across the horzon. Sometimes I think it's tyres on road I can hear.
Mother Hubbard's given up smoking! Well over a yer ago she knocked booze on the head and has not gone back. Which makes two out of three (in my mind). As for the third one: "why should I?" she said. For now she's happy swigging back meth(adone) all week and having heroin "hits" three or four days out of seven. Those hits are the highlight of her week.
Digger Dodge, her "old man" (partner) was out seeing his old man (father) in the old folks home where he now resides. Mother Hubbs makes a "home" sound like a fate worse then death. I don't see that it's too bad. It's a fully private facility. You're allowed pets. And all bedrooms have satellite TV. It's considerably more luxurious than here. But then again, so are some prisons, judging by what I've read in the papers.
Mother Hubbs has plans. I think, as soon as she's able, she wants to up sticks and leave these dismal shores for the brighter climate of Melbourne Aus, where her sister lives.
The travelling bug (or more to the point, the upping sticks and plonking down somewhere else blog - I'm not into moving around for the sake of it) has bitten me too as I reported a couple of posts ago. If and when and everything I can and do get it together to clean up and straighten out, I feel the call of European shores. Amsterdam has alwyas been an attraction (why does everyone associate the place with drugs. I'm not even going to argue this point. Drugs are everywhere and not everyone in Amsterdam is on them. Read Nicole's blog. Berlin I have always wanted to see. And I can easily speak German well enough to get by there. Then there's Paris. I've been there twice. YOu can wander the streets all day long without feeling you could be somewhere better. It's so cool and calm. Easy to forget you're in a city of equal size and stature to London and New York ...
One thing my family cannot (or will not) understand is my desire to travel. I just don't understand why. They cannot seem to grasp my viewpoint that a day lived abroad is a day full of tiny thrills that simply do not happen in one's own country. It's basically because things are just a little bit different. Different buses. Different trains. Different money. Different stamps. Different food. Different people to inflict my dreaded pingpongball dumplings upon ... just kidding (of course) ... It's ten times easier to make friends abroad. People want to speak to you because you're different. This is not idealism speaking, it's experience.
Another aspect my family wouldn't understand is that I spent years studying the French and German languages and this has given me an insight into their cultures that is simply out of reach to the average monoglot Brit. Of course I'm always swimming against the tide with this one. Our insular view is that "all foreigners speak English anyway, so why bother?" The best riposte to this argument would be something I once read in a travel guide. And it's simple: imagine staying in New York or London for three months and not speaking or understanding a single word of English. How much of the culture would you understand then?
- I rest my case.
Basically I feel that if I live out my life not having lived abroad when I have the chance, I will have failed myself.
What will I do with myself when I'm out there? This is a New Europe. Supposedly "Unified". Anything I can do here should be possible in France, Holland, Germany or Spain. I'd like to train up for a profession. And I'd like to write and get paid for it. You can do that anywhere these days. Which is precisely my point.
And that, my dear friends, is as simple as that ... And here endeth the present drivel!
OK that thing above is just my tonight's post bc the computer is showing no bloody sign of POSTING it!!
This is what technology has done for paperlessness.
"Oh, I wonder what the rainfall was in Madagascar last year? Oh gosh, it's 3,500 mm on about 240 days of the year. I should print that out so I have a record handy. Fun facts aren't fun unless they are handy."
The poor trees. What'd they do to deserve such inconsideration.
BTW, The cut flowers I have in my place are the little bunches snagged from my brother's garden and stuffed in a thrift store vases. I venture to say that Sir Elton could save a pound or two if he had a talented gardening brother like myself. Say what you will about Sir Elton, he does use his celebrity for a great deal of good. If only I were famous!
Also--you ARE a rascal for getting me all excited thinking I had viewership when I saw I had EIGHT comments. Lucky for you that you are charming!
WS
Wayward:
rascal! long time since I've heard that word
I Love your doggie btw she is really cute
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