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Good god WHY?

I have been, as is my wont, a trifle busy. Do not weep for me my children, for this is a good thing. When you own your own business, for reasons which become increasingly obscure, busy is good. I'm often amused by people coming in very early/late in an apologetic manner: "I'm sorry to bother you" they whisper, ashen-faced "No! Bother me!" I cry "Because bothering me will involve money! Which I can exchange for goods or services!" So said level of activity has left poor old coastalblog maundering, mouldering, skulking like a whipped cur, which of course, will not do. It's also left the old trying to do a spot of writing depressingly firmly on the back burner.

I wouldn't mind, in all seriousness, were it not that much of my activity is that which I used to delegate to others, back in the day. I've done my years of pot-washing, floor-cleaning, extractor-fan grease removing. And now I'm doing them again. Because it means I don't have to pay somebody else to do it. My business partner and I have a running joke, a call and response routine whenever one of us is engaged in particularly gruesome task of the sort which, by rights, should be building the character of some sprightly child, rather than testing my creaky thirtysomething muscles "Know what I like about owning my own business?" "The glamour/power/influence/jetskis/hos (delete according to mood)" Ah, the hos. Goodness that's a word that looks odd pluralised. I wonder what the collective noun is? I hope "sufficiency" as in "I have a sufficiency of hos". That'd be marvellous.

But not, I cannot help but note, as marvellous as our brave new political dawn. Isn't it exciting? No. No it's not. Though I have to give what I believe are referred to as "mad props" by those whose knowledge of hip-hop stalled in approx 2002 of whom I count myself a proud and upstanding member (I have pointed out that I'm busy, right? It got to the stage where I was buying Kardinal Offishal records out of a desperate attempt to keep up, and then when I got round to listening to it I realised it was a load of old pony, and what a complete waste of everybody's time THAT was, and that reference should point you to the precise point in timeat which I realised you know, I could try and keep up with music,or I could have a conversation with that woman who, as it turns out, will wind up marrying me. I took option B, I'm reasonably happy about it) to Coastalblog Hermano Gareth Evans who rather brilliantly describes our current situation as " Ah well back to a 2-party 'Good vs. Evil' system." Which is pretty much OTM, as I may have typed back when I had time to wander to internet forums.

Alles klar meine kinder, I needed to ramble, I suspect. Possibly some may read it, more, as seems increasingly likely, maybe not so much, herein lies the gooey deliciousness of the internet. I can vomit at irregular intervals, some of you may pick it up, many won't, but still it will continue to exist, for as long as the servers keep going at any rate. Rather puts the kibosh on the notion of validation by peers, I guess it all comes down to how long you can think you're a legend, a topic for another time perhaps. Goodnight! (To be read in the voice of that guy in the simpsons who takes Marge out for her prom, no I don't know his fucking name, you're on the internet aren't you? look it up. Fuck sake)

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