I can’t think of any incredibly verbose or witty way to start this blog, and this irks me considerably. Let the self-flagellation commence! No.

Probably I should just assume the most glib, self-referential manner imaginable and commence as if previous posts have existed and it is an error on the part of you, the reader, that you don’t understand what is going on. (At least this is how anyone arriving at a blog always feels, unless it really is the first post, in which case there exists a kind of embarrassed coyness in the text.)

Thursday and I still have not done any work on my tech coursework, which is due, finished, near the end of April. The reason? Well, last night (slash, this morning) I spent eleven hours playing Wolfenstein on Xbox Live. Surely this marks me out as some kind of freak, not least some abnormal night-dweller? Well, I admit to profusely loving the night; I love the feeling one gets when the sun starts to rise, and a glance at a clock reveals the hour to be something near to 6:00, the nagging, angular digits both chiding and offering a complicit wink. At least that’s the poetic way of expressing it.

Truly, as much as I love this criminal dossing (it must be criminal - I’m wondering why the fuck has no-one charged me with anything), during the day I berate myself for being such a lazy sod. Still, there it is. Xbox Live, by the way, whilst largely the reason for so many sleepless nights/mornings, is not the only agent provocateur. I am a huge film fan, and usually stay up late listening (watching?) DVD commentaries. So sue me, I’m hideously obsessed.

What a load of parentheses! Ah well, I think I attained the level of self-referentialness I was aiming for. Until next time:

Thanks for reading. It helps.