There is a radio program muttering in the background. I can make out some of the words, "Visigoths" is spoken, "Christian minority", "people of the book", "political mayhem". This is not the way to end a long day, methinks, so I'll play some nice drug drenched guitar music, kick back and finish this tomorrow.

Wednesday. Back from the brewery pub after a few drinks with the usual crew. Feeling good. Yes, the beer, I like the beer. We've been drinking Guinness because (in our business) we can track Guinness shipments to the United States and they've been declining, so we've been doing our bit to bolster sales. A personal endeavour, no need for anyone else to go out and take up the challenge. We drink it in the cans, the wonderful Guinness cans that are able to deliver a glass so close to the draft. God makes her presence known in so many small and wondrous ways. You know you're a spiritual person when you can see her face in the waterfall of a freshly poured glass. If you don't know what I'm talking about you have not led a life of sufficient adventure. Which is OK. Just a comment. I'm a little drunk.

This was a good day. I've been carping, it seems forever, about the comings and goings of my job. I had a recent experience supporting one of our current projects where I built and delivered a number of desktops (plain, wrapped in brown paper, standard software, additional RAM since they were for developers) on a last minute rush-rush basis to a section of our building that houses one of our current "must be done at all costs" projects and found myself in the middle of Apocalypse Now in the spaced out up river part of the movie where the troops have gone around the bend and the lights are blinking and the faces are painted and the bullets are coming and going (and speaking of Michaelangelo-ing) and today was not unlike that, people working in groups that don't talk with one another, projects dead in the water flogging their way forward like animated corpses, people who never step out of line on the job stepping out of line on the job saying things like "you people are crazy, stop this nonsense".

Anyway, my point was this was a pretty good day, because, although it had all of the characteristics I've described above, I found a point where I just did my stuff, the stuff I rather like to do, and stopped paying attention to the fact the operation is brain dead and dying. If they let me go, and they will let me go, I will take my money and run. I have funds in the bank to last a year. Maybe that's good, maybe that's bad, but a year means six months of doing exactly as I wish before I even think about finding a job and that sounds fine, thank you.

Did I mention I'd had a few drinks after work with fellow malcontents at the office? That the day went well? That Guinness comes in a can that unlike other cans pours out into a glass in god like fashion? I did?