The word of the day is: "hamartia"

The schizophrenia deepens. Hello Dominic.

Gabriel and I had an argument the other day about whether "shit" was an expletive or not. Gabriel maintains that it isn't, and hence his justified use of it does not render his moral stance against vulgarity null and void. Personally, I feel "shit" would pass the reasonable test as a form of low-grade vulgarity, and hence his self-righteous aversion to profanity is undermined. Gabriel said that he uses it in a literal sense of the word(ie. as a colloquialism for feces), to which I countered that other synonyms exist such as doodoo, turd, mist, poop, duenge, kuso, guano, or caca which no one would consider vulgar.

We continue to exchange arguments of like mettle inside the one brain. Fellow lobes, join in the fight!

Today my senior took sick leave, and my relief officer was on study leave(for some banking certification). As a result, I had to wade through hordes of customers for 7 non-stop hours of hard-core banking. The marauding armies surged at me, threatening to overwhelm my meager defenses. It was us, the few, the proud, the non-malingering(1/3rd of our staff was out on leave of one kind of another, leaving us desperately short-handed). Us against the damn public!(Almost like being in government) Finally, I stood triumphant over a pile of steaming specimen cards and account passbooks! Ah, the sweet pyrrhic taste of victory, dampened only by having to lick and seal 150 letters to customers informing them about the massive savings to be made through our mortgage refinancing packages.
(I hope the glue on those envelopes isn't toxic)

My subscription to the Economist finally came through! Woohoo! I can now have something to read at lunch!(on the days I actually *have* lunch)

Profound insights elude me, so pretension is all I have in place of a life.

*slaps face, in the timed, futile hope that the nerves transmit the pain signals to other parts of our shared brain*

Gabriel, you shouldn't be too hard on those lobes of ours who decide to do things elsewhere. The collective approach to blogging has its drawbacks, and some people like to actually have *lives*(whatever those are). Either that, or maybe the medication's working on them better than it is for us.

To quote from my (real) diary: "I've given my life to a set of obsessions I'm no longer sure are noble; I might be willing to trade in my patented eccentricities for a normal life if there was anything about a normal life I could stand. I live an existence with no resources, allies, or goals, only an acute sense of everything wrong with the world."

If one of our personalities commits suicide, does it bring down the others with him? interesting moral dilemma. That would be one way to prove the matter one way or the other. Shotgun is handy, it leans temptingly at my desk. Albeit heavy, and difficult to cock. Mitiated only by the terrible embarrassment suicide is these days.

Guy Pearce: "How can I heal if I can't feel time?"

But then again, Doris Day: "If life gives you lemons, grab a tequila and make margaritas."

THOUGHTS CAN POP INTO YOUR HEAD INVOLUNTARILY. Like the occasional warped impulse to tear a baby's limb off. Or the sudden desire to do the Macarena *and* the funky monkey at the same time. (it's possible, although it's a reflection of poor planning)

Today, the phone at my desk kept playing the tune from Bridge over the River Kwai. I don't know why. It wouldn't stop. And other people could hear it, so I'm not entirely crazy.I hit every button on it, but it kept playing the tune. For 3 hours. Another officer suggested using a hammer. In the end, I ripped the phone from the line and threw it into the dustbin in a fit of rage, only to have my assistant manager berate me for poor anger control(seriously). I had to fish it out and plug it back in. Thankfully, mercifully, it remained silent. I almost believe in miracles now.

I'm male. Sort of. And army talk doesn't do anything for uniting me, other than my needing to learn it to communicate with some of you warheads.

Schumacher won the Spanish Grand Prix! (erm, was anyone expecting anyone else?)