I am a salmon. I am swimming against the current, going nowhere, fighting a path upstream to some unknowable goal, for some intangible reason. At the moment I am stuck beneath a weir; some man-made bullshit designed to keep my nose pressed down against the slimy bottom of the river. I can’t find a way up.
My body is filling with cortisol. Whenever I get wherever I am going, I will die.


Remember that thing I said about coping pretty well with no PC gaming? That it’s not an addiction? Well forget it. I’m starting to get really fucking jittery now. Next week it will be a month since my gaming rig blew, and my new components (OK, some of them are a *little* esoteric) still haven’t all arrived. Dawn of War was released today, and my NTL broadband speed has been upped – ripe for some online gaming now it’s getting dark and wet outside. I need some 1st person shooter action, some top down strategy mindfuck, some multiplayer online competition. I need to win. Either I need the brain chemicals I’m missing, or I need to satisfy some hormones that are raging.
Christ, it’s like my PC’s having a period or something.


People scoff when I claim that you can measure the law of Sod.
Yesterday morning I was running (well, cycling) late to catch my train (Jack was up early). With the foreknowledge of Sod’s Law I predicted that the busy dual-carriageway that I have to cross every morning would be particularly busy because of my worry & tardiness. It was. The traffic was thick. No gaps, & the lights took longer than usual to allow me through. I had to up my pace to catch my train.
This morning – glorious as it is for it not raining right now – is a bit chilly. But I didn’t realise this until half a mile down the road. It should have been the first morning for gloves. Instead of losing time by stopping I decided to put them on at the busy dual-carriageway, but then Sod’s Law slipped into my mind & I knew this wouldn’t be possible. Indeed, traffic turned out to be very light & I just slipped across the road, between the gaps, with cold hands.
OK, we’re talking about n=2 here, but this is about as much evidence as people put up for the prescence of ghosts (a spectral orb on infra-red camera? Or maybe it’s just a bit of dust? Aaargh! Quit it you loonies!) so I thought I’d mention it. Don’t expect me to be recording any long-term logs here. I’m sad, but not that sad.
My brother says my belief in Sod’s Law is just a mark of my pessimism. He’s probably right.