General

I lug my knapsack, and join the queue at the bus stop. It is one of those really cold days, made worse because the day before was on the other side of warm and I am not properly dressed for the weather - that, and the howling wind. There is a little queue building up - roadworks have meant that the bus is operating a slightly lighter schedule. A man walks up to me wearing a kilt and holding bag pipes. He seems to be in his late thirties or early forties and there is the ubiquitous whiff of alcohol on his breath - and a few weeks old stubble on his chin with a smattering of grey. I increase the volume a little more on my iPod to stave off the inevitable inane banter. He doesn’t seem impressed. He shifts from one foot to the other making wheezing noises all the time. ...

On the 4th ring, someone answers the phone. The voice is distant, seemingly attenuated by all the miles of cabling and ether between me and the recipient. There is a certain sleepy quality to the voice too, as though I have woken them up from the depths of an afternoon nap. Its late afternoon in that part of the world, that time of day when the oppressive heat and the lack of activity on a Sunday afternoon combine to lull one into a dreamy haze. ...

I finally beat my bout of the flu. Two days off work away from the cesspool of infection and re-infection - and a strong smelling concoction served up by my friend O - proved the final sucker punch that knocked out the few remaining colonies of the bug I picked up. I still do not consider myself at 100% fit, but at least it has become possible to settle into a close approximation of my old routines even though a slight headache remains. ...

My head hurts… The unwanted gift of a hammering headache, a running nose, a sore throat and a rasping cough have laid into me - unintended consequences of open plan offices, shared spaces and recycled air laden with seasonal bugs. We have been pressed into the service of our very own macabre orchestra - our wheezing, sneezing and coughing all coming together in a bug fest.. I really wish I could call in sick tomorrow.. Sigh..

Sleep and I have never been the best of friends. As far down the labyrinths of memories that I can navigate I find that I have always been an early sleeper, prone to be awakened by the lightest of commotions. Perhaps it is me clutching at omens - seeking to find solace in unrelated events - but days when I have awakened early with full control of my senses something momentous has happened. ...

I am waiting for the bus to work when I see a four-wheel drive approach. Two men jump out and proceed to hand out invites of some sort. When I finally get mine, its for a seeker focused meeting at the Church opposite the road from the bus stop. In another place, these men would be armed with portable microphones, blaring out the Gospel.. Interestingly, what I remember is the white-clothed variant….

The size of the reading list for 2011 is threatening to spiral out of control. And I am adding more to the list… Added two new books to the list - Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist and Teju Cole’s Open City. That brings to five the books on the list.. Sigh..

Sometimes simple things can break you. Benign things repeated time and time again can finally reach a threshold that leaves a scar - scratch marks burned on the wall of ones consciousness like ravines gouged out of hard rock by the persistence of a swollen river. It is not an inherent danger of the act, but its repetition that finally wears one out. I have been carrying a beeping device around. Every thirty minutes a faint beep sounds - a precursor to the inflation of a cuff around my arm - and then I must stretch my hand out for one more data point to be acquired. At first it was novelty and I tried to anticipate when the next beep might sound. But with each beep and straightening of the arm,a certain weariness descends. I want out of the control the little device has over me. Sadly, the only choice I had was in accepting..The consequence was chosen for me at the same time. ...

I finally drag myself out of bed at the third time of asking. It is shaping up to be one of those days; one when an ultra short to-do list will manage to get the better of me. Something about the lack of urgency spawned by a short to-do list has always been my besetting ‘sin’. Today, there is one thing that must needs be done - I’m off to the GP’s to have a 24 hour blood pressure monitoring device fitted. ...

If clocking in at 9am is the final act that seals my very own Faustian exchange, 3.00pm heralds the first faint sniffs of a coming salvation. Each day, a Bloke must lay the gifts of his time and skill on the altar of Mammon slaving away to earn his sustenance. Cups of coffee, endless trips to the loo, inane spreadsheets, chats with the intern and the occasional hard shift are all tools in the Bloke’s arsenal as he strives to make time pass quickly to justify the day’s pay. If the Bloke is lucky, make that uncommonly lucky, he finds his daily grind slightly more than remotely interesting. If he is like the rest of us, sometimes work is a long drawn out struggle with boredom. ...