A variety of achievements.

How can a person be busy for ten days on end?!

...your silence tells me.

I confess. I was only busy for nine, including an unreal Sunday where I spent the hours awake from three in the noon to four in the morning on work. A three hour break for an unusually insightful bout of beer with mates was all.

But well, the longest I'd gone without updating the place with crass entertainment was nine days before this. Blinking at the screen blankly last night, I decided to go for the record and here it is! The first double-digit gap between content. The leap between this and the three digit gap is a considerable one but hey, keep the faith.

Not that I'm losing interest in this. Far from it. The problem lies with my personal standards. I simply cannot type four sentences, hit Publish and then look at myself in the morning. Although a vast majority of what I write is complete bollocks, I will not be satisfied with anything less than a lot of complete bollocks. Complete with trademark killer use of italics.

Hence the little catch of the breath when suddenly, comments started flooding in. I insist on numbers you can count on one hand as a flood, leave off. People were actually reading my bollocks, and professing to like it. No money of any sort changed hands. Even I wouldn't sink that low.

Having thought I was writing all along for three people and a small yappy-type dog, and having even that population shrink down to pretty much just my ambiguously gay partner, the comments came as quite a surprise. Whatever strange stroke of serendipity caused it, thank you. I very much appreciated your comments. The eclectic, naked victory dance I spontaneously burst into was almost involuntary.

Though I figure it was a one-off event, I've said before that as a writer, having one's writing vindicated is the end-all of pleasures. Or maybe it's just my sad self. Mr Ancob,whom I have mentioned professed I write well, tells people he introduces me to, all about my excellence. And then he points out the twenty-third perceived error I have made in two paragraphs, back at the office. This is why I don't believe anything he says anymore.

That said, a fair bit of what had to be done is done. Much more time to self. Much less leverage to use against myself when talking myself out of anything that smells like work after a long day. My inner battles, they are spectacular. They are fascinating in the same way, that the extra long, curly tendril of nostril hair you only find out about at the end of the day, is.

...Try not to ask. I will be around more frequently, is all.