Am I paranoid?

Sometimes I wonder if I'm paranoid? Someone will say something and I'll go over it in my mind. I'll ask questions like "what did they mean?" and was it the words of the comment or the inflection of the voice. Because the "HOW" of something being said is more important than what is said at times. That's why when you hear an interpreter speak you never really know what is going on between the lines. Sometimes my paranoia leads me to ask if other people are like me.

Is my shirt too loud today? Did I forget to say hello to them? And of course the 'OK you bastard be like that but in the outside world beyond the factory you have no respect.' Then I wonder if I am not a likable person, if there is something about me people don't like. Or why on earth should it matter? Rather what matters is I'm not being fake but being myself. As the in Shakespeare's play Hamlet "Be true to yourself."

Now did old Shakespeare have paranoia, or was he too busy writing about mixed up people, or more of mixed up paranoid people. If any King Lear certainly was one not forgetting Hamlet again, I mean who really sees ghosts? Which reminds me next time I wake up at 2 a.m. I'll ask Fred if he'll stop rattling his chains, I got work in the morning.

On the stairs

I had an odd understanding today, sometime in the morning, either on the way to the loo or returning from the loo. I was on the stairs at the time. I realised there were a number of people in the Factory I just did not like. Even to the extent quietly harbouring my own animosity towards them. The girl who beat me in an interview for a managerial post, the stout woman who was a manager and I just know is incredibly insincere in personality. She says "Good Morning" to everyone when she happens to pass them in the morning, but it isn't a natural polite enquiry it's as though it is forced. I'd also heard how she had ganged up with another manager and questioned a very nice hard working employee who had some misgiving about the way a new proposal was to be implimented. It is as though there are people in life who you just don't really need to know a great deal about, but immediately can put them into a category. They are the not so nice persons. My epithany was I disliked far too many coworkers and should give up on those silent thoughts and voodoo curses I'd projected in their directions. They can't really help being complete twats, or having something defective in their character. In the meantime it was a waste of energy for me, even the whisp of a thought is a waste of energy. Perhaps equating to a fraction of a granual of sugar, but sometimes thoughts run away so quickly or automatically they are difficult to control. But very fortunately mouths are, because with all these thoughts if I didn't have control of my gob I'd of been sacked quite a time ago.

Desperately Seeking Flu

In the background the TV runs, constantly streaming forth auditory puke, worse than a Friday night session and an involuntary spasm after 15 pints of beer, but it was the last beer with the funny taste wot did it. Spurt. Just like a scene from The Exorist, the TV spews forth yet more fowl smelling bile. No wonder I hate being sick.

What is it with never ending repeats of Madonna in her starring debut role in Desperately Seeking Susan. It seems only 2 or 3 days ago it was on the box and again it rears its self like a decayed crap rising to the surface of the world's ocean. Even the ocean can not put up with it and tries desperately to throw it forth hoping some alien craft will whisk this unwanted phenomenon into the deepest hottest part of the Sun. Oh I hate being sick!!!

There should be some reward for persons who come threw bouts of sickness, not a medal, becuase it would be too corny, perhaps a hot chocolate pudding with whipped creme freche, and maybe a touch of sour apricot sauce to offset it. What are the pleasures of life? Sex, food, and what others? Getting well would seem to be one.

Just done 4 days back at the Factory, after a week off. Now what a dangerous combination it can be. When time off from work makes you realise how much you enjoy the time off and why you don't like the work. Even if for some reason you have convinced yourself you really do enjoy your work, take a holiday and then the pleasure of late morning rising, slowly eaten food, and chilling really do have. Lets not forget the happiness of being in the company of family and friends just long enough to know you love them but not to know you love them enough you want to stick your hands round their throats or give them a one way ticket to Bombay's outer reaches. As for depressive relatives, stick them on a boat, take the rudder off and wave with a happy tear in your eye. They can jump off and swim back when they've learnt to cheer up. Otherwise asta lav vista for longer than you'd expect.

No the factory isn't everything, neither is the Flu, I'd just wish Susan would Fuck Off, there's only so much Maddona anyone can take.

Artic? NO!!!! Inarticulate Monkeys

I was listening to the radio this morning, BBC Radio 4, the Today program, when for the first time ever they announced an interview with the band Artic Monkeys. Because Artic Monkeys had just won the Mercury award.

Earlier I discovered the Mercury award was somthing to be given to those musicians who had produced good music but really didnt get the recongnition they deserved. (This was yesterday while i was at the gym on the treadmill). The broadcaster went on to say although Artic Monkeys were a candidate, it didn't make much sense they should win because they held the record for most sold debut album. In the circumstances it would be silly to give them yet another award. It was further elaborated the Mercury Award was something judged on the night and after an hour or so of deliberation from the selected judges. To this extent the judgement and novelty of the award seemed to have something going for it other awards just couldn't. For instance being influenced by the politics of a situation.

So it was a surprise to hear Artic Monkeys had won. A small clip was given of some of their music and then the interview which was exceptionally short, i'd of thought in the region of 10 to 15 seconds took place. Previously Artic Monkeys had always refused to give interviews, in this very very short space of time I so understood why. Because the wonderful imaginative name of Artic Monkeys was in fact a big blundering misnomer, the real name which must of been scribbled out because they couldn't spell it, popped to mind. A flashbulb moment errupted. Yes in reality the Artic Monkeys are really The Inarticulate Monkeys. It was as though i was listening to a group of boys who had just left secondary school with no GCSE's between them having failed in favour of going to music classes and playing with their spoons. Somehow their true name The Inarticulate Monkeys had been misslaid with their text books.

The talent of their music had suddenly without doubt been overshadowed by their vocabulary, (rather lack of it) attitude and perhaps even geneticly challenged intelligence. They talked in a derisory fashion of how it was selling of CDs that made them famous, even though the interviewer interjected it was their internet success that begot the financial wealth of their CD sales. In this extent there was no recognition of the fans who listened to them. There was no thanks to the wonder of the internet and what it had done for them. Apparently the interview was so short because so much of it entailed editing out of swearing it could not be aired. So I have christened in my own mind and will state whenever i hear their name spoken. "Oh Artic Monkeys you say, hmmm don't you really mean The Inarticulate Monkeys?"

Therefore it goes here is one person who will never purchase any music from The Inarticulate Monkeys. However if for some reason i'm given it free by a friend i'll listen to it accidentally of course, I wouln't want to break any copyright laws. I wonder if The Inarticulate Monkeys actually ever paid for any of their music before they were famous. OOps now a fan may probably think the answer is "no" and oh yes where can i get it for free?