Tuesday, 25 June 2013


Yes ignore that last spew.  Somehow during the spewaging, the old inconsequential spew slipped back into it's previous spew bucket. 

So glad I made the most of a bright spring morning...


I G N O R E 

Queen Glitch...

Thought I'd have a quick peek at Blogger to see if it had decided to behave in my absence.  It most certainly had not.  But as I'd planned to do lots of writing today, I wondered if a quick flick thro' a couple of old posts might just spur me on.  Either to make me think 'it's ok I CAN do this' (unlikely) or to be so shamed by my drivel that I'd resolve to improve, and set about doing so (a virtuous ambition don't you agree?)  So I just tapped on a couple of random ex-splats.  Noticed some typos.  Ignored them.  Next splat - the urge to correct over-took me so I hit the Edit button.  Fool.  Removed the offending error.  Fool.  Was faced with Save Draft or Publish.  Hit Publish.  That's what I used to do wernnit??  FOOL.  Suddenly I was back on the battleground of Signing In.  My password has lost it's power.  My choices are displayed in a muted 'you can look but you can't touch' tease.  I press everything in the end but nothing works except 'Cancel'.  My corrected old post disappears.  Now it wasn't a great work, but it's a link in a chain that has become more precious with age.  It's the rarity value.  My bloggy offerings are but a paltry tinkle of coppers due to a broken heart - Blogger dumped me and I never got over it - (oh it lets me spew still but not defend myself afterwards - comments still denied) - so I recoiled and took myself out of the market.  But like a soppy black&white heroine I pulled my old love letters out from under the bed to torture myself - and dropped one down the floorboards....

Oh the anguish!  I have no idea why I felt so bereft, especially as I had just read it and knew it was wholly inconsequential, but it's the principle goldarnit!  And gods knows I have so few of those left.  I've just been electronically erased.  Outraged by technology again.  Feel thick now.

Can't even remember what it was called....

I give up fighting against the fight.  Go back to the front line hands raised clutching a tattered white hankie and look!  There the bastard is.  Re-published as if it's a new bloody idea.  

I hate this 'I Know Best' digital nazism.  I can't even retain my own thoughts in the order I thought them. I might just stop thinking altogether.  That'll fix Them.  

Anyway - just ignore.  Did you know that on the Self-Service tills in B&Q there is an Ignore button that the staff can press when the posh voice goes AWOL?  I want an Ignore button installed in my head.  When the shit starts to waft my way - click.  Ignore.

It's the only sensible path.  Self-improvement has shown itself to be a worthless ambition after all.  In trying to polish-up my previous incarnation, I merely highlighted my lacking.  So I'm backing away into the dark bushes once more to watch the pretty lights from my lowly hovel.  Pretend you never saw me.


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