This is a story about friction...

Some days I wish there was an "I'm feeling lucky" button I could hit, which would randomly choose a photograph, title and "This is a story about..." preamble for me, then I would just write my daily essay and be done. Sometimes, I've got nothing I want to say, particularly, which hasn't been said before, ad nauseam.

Yesterday I wrote about my murky past, doing jobs in hated industries. Quite rightly hated, I should add, because of the misery and suffering they cause. I'd be lying if I said I wrote it and didn't care about the reaction: somewhat deafening silence. I don't know what I was expecting. I suppose either a load of villagers with pitchforks and torches, out to lynch me for my evil deeds, or else maybe some people saying "it's OK, Nick, we know you were young and foolish and regret your actions now; we forgive you because you're such a great guy for spilling your guts all over the public internet every single day".

Nope.

Didn't happen.

So, here is a picture of some wooden spinning tops, and a rather bizarre stream-of-consciousness brain dump, which is now ending. Short and sweet. See how you like them apples.

Tags: #writing