April 1, 2009
Fools Day
Another month, another failure to blog. I'm not sure what's happened to my creative urges -- or my destructive ones for that matter -- but they seem not to be finding an outlet here in the way they once did.
Shame, really, because all manner of pointless bollocks has been going down, including that nexus of doublethinking idiocy, known only by a letter and number, which is convening in this fair city even as we speak. Though I still cling to the promise of Prez B-to-the-O's phantasmagoria of "change" I can't help but glower down in something proximal to despair at his administration's -- and our own's -- inability to see and grasp the opportunities of global catastrophe. What kind of clueless, hidebound, industry-stooge penis conceives of hedge fund managers as the world's guides to economic salvation? Could Tim Geithner not find enough serial killers, child molesters and used chainsaw salesmen to do the fucking job?
Despite which, I have not spent the day hurling dustbins through Starbucks franchise windows or raiding the premises of any of the arsewit banks of which I am now a de facto, though powerless, shareholder. My time manning the barricades is over, I fear. Let younger, prettier and more idealistic firebrands torch cars and go mano-a-mano with the bovine gregariousness of a senile oligarchy, while I toil fruitlessly in the ever-shrinking universe of experimental science, not even managing to learn more and more about less and less. While I, in other words, nod off during departmental seminars or, at best, bandy facile words with my charming but unthinking, Chris Moyles-listening, Jeremy Clarkson-apologist, home counties hillbilly postdoc companion around the frustratingly dysfunctional SICM rig.
Gah!
If you happen to be my "friend" on notorious attention-waste Facebook, you may already have received unwanted notification of my barely-deserved loss of PubMed virginity courtesy of someone else's brief communication in the new Nature Methods. Not as much a claim to fame as this often-fallow venue, but you have to start somewhere. Even if, on current form, you may well also end there.
Last week the substation exploded. Next week is my first year viva and the Isle of Wight. Call this a lull.
Posted by matt at April 1, 2009 11:50 PM