Scraping numbers into the wall...

Well, I'm not exactly locked away in a prison cell - far from it, as I'm in my room with all the amusements and distractions I've hoarded over the years. Writing this report is like squeezing blood from a stone, though, and I feel like I'm doing solitary confinement :)

Instead of carving a tally of the days spent here, I should keep track of how much I've written. I can steal a spoon when the guards bring me my next meal, and scrape the count into the bricks next to my bed...

Apologies to everyone I've been piking on lately. Fear my pikey powers, for I am more-or-less confined to quarters until I get a draft written. I'm slipping back into late-night productivity, and fortunately there are no work committments that need me conscious in daylight hours, before Monday. Later in the week, I'll dust off my 48-hour report-writing binge powers, and write myself off completely... (ergh, bad pun - but so appropriate...)

Nothing to see here... just forget that I exist for a while, and I'll re-emerge later on. In fact, I'll be blinking in the harsh.. er... nightlight, come the end of next week. If anyone wants to find spiky stompy music at Psychonaut next Friday, come along - I really need to get out of here for a while. Between that and the Covenant concert the next night, I should be able to chalk up my dancing quota for the month...

"...And are you ashamed, are you afraid,
of gods and idols that you have made?
Did you think you'll be saved
by the gods and idols you have made?..."