This is the future so where's my rocketpack?

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I can hear it behind me. The pitter and the patter. Like the sound your heart makes just before someone makes it skip a beat. None of those things sound particularly healthy from a medical point of view. My medical knowledge has mostly been procured from film and tv so it may be incredibly lacking and have an unrealistic expectation where it comes to being exposed to radiation or struck by lightning. Even with the sum of medical knowledge that could very well be described as dangerously lacking I'm sure skipping a beat can't be good for you. If there's a doctor in the house I want to know what you're doing in my house and how did you get in! If you are The Doctor then I'm ready to go but do we really have to do all that running? Google will know. It knows everything. Except perhaps how to pay tax....*ahem* or the maybe do...all of them...honestly. Oooooh so that's what they are. Heart Palpitation. You see someone so lovely they your heart tries to explode like in a cartoon. Yeah, I'm going to hold onto my reclusive hermitude even harder now. It feels safer.

I like hyperbole, it makes me happy. I also like the word itself...not the word "itself" but the word itself. Hyperbole. It's fun to say. This really does have nothing to do with the snaps I snapped on the way home from the chippy with one are precariously holding three bags of chips and two portions of Mac & Cheese bites while taking photos with my phone in the other hand. Though it is a bit disappointing that I seem to take more interesting shots with the phone and little effort than with the camera and Photoshop and the intention of a decent shot. Course it could be that you feel far more self conscious with a camera. It's like a million times less obvious.

The bus was much more peopley on the way home. Fortunately none of them chose to sit next to me. Perhaps I give off an aura that tells them that they shall not invade my territorial bubble. Oh no.....what if it's smell. Quick someone...smell me. Do I still smell of Raspberry Kiss shower gel? My deliciousness shall not be called into question.

Morning, a quiet and solitary time. Because no other bugger was on the bus when I got on. Do they know something I don't? I thought everyone ventured out at this time on a Saturday. But then again...more people means more people and I like to keep my peopling to a minimum.

The norm is a very...it's a...well it's a wide and varied phenomena all dependent on how you perceive the norm. Your norm could be wet fish sequestered about your person in such a way that it is both comforting and pleasurable to you. It would not be many people's idea of the norm but normalcy does tend to have a plethora of interpretations. The norm is comforting. You see it coming into your vicinity and you feel the urge to shout "Norm!" to make sure it finds it's way to you. For in it's warm and cosy bosom you feel at home. But then you spot something. It looks interesting. Intriguing. Which causes you to wonder "Do I dare?". So you do. And it feels peculiar. It does not feel like the second skin that your norm should feel like. You are aware of it being different. It's has a different texture, a different weight, a different smell. And you like it. For you may have a single norm but that can cover a multitude of stuff and things. Ever changing like the fluidity of a cat that wants to sleep in every box and bowl it can find. It just fits. Incidentally the only beasties that were harmed in the making of this were the dinosaurs that went into making the jacket.

I don't know. I don't. You always think that you do know but then something happens to make you pondering the immensity of your knowing. Things are easy to know. They are things. They go about their business being thingy and most of the time they're quite innocuous and stationary. They're safe. It's the other things. You know the things. The things that move. That talk. That may think in some sort of form but their interpretation of those thoughts are bewildering and make you question your knowing of things. It's people. I'm talking about people. I know you were sitting there unable to interpret the subtle and cunning method by which I distracted your mind with the talk of things but it's people. They are like a dark and misty close where you cannot tell what might leap out and reveal itself. Like not knowing if the Flasher will be all boob, wobbly man parts, or a bit of both. It stretches the gulf of "Oooh that's nice" and "My gawd what the hell is that thing, you should have a doctor look at it" That's why people must be avoided at all times. So I'm going to bed.

It looks like some large capitalist corporation has managed to get the time of year right.

I ate them. I know that's what you're thinking. And no, there aren't any left. Of course I would have shared. All you have to do is ask. Then answer my riddle and travel far and wide upon a quest of my choosing which may or may not include a foray into Dragon country. It does exist. Just because something isn't on a map it doesn't mean that it's completely imaginary and made up. Maybe it's not on your map but it's on every one I have. It..no...no it doesn't....you're wrong....sharpie is a perfectly acceptable piece of cartography paraphernalia. What do you mean you still don't believe. Just a "Conspiracy of Cartographers" you say? Well you say wrong. I don't really know if you could be any more wrong. If you were a dinosaur you would be a Wrongasaurus Rex. If you were a member of the avian fraternity we'd be pricking up our ears of the morning and saying "Hark, I heard the singing of a Wrong Bird". If you were a person you'd be a successful politician. Yes, I took it that far. And I'd do again. To Dragon Country.

At this time in the morning all you see are the bleary-eyed individuals who are out to ensure that everything is prepared for the next wave of bleary-eyed individuals who seem to forget that it's hard to sympathise with their dragging themselves off to work when the first wave have been working for hours....maybe minutes....but they were hard minutes.

Even the sun is barely wanting to come out this morning. How are the rest of us supposed to rise and shine if that big bugger isn't going to do it. It is only the promise of becoming a hundredaire that is forcing me to unleash myself on the world.

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