KLAATU BARADA NIKTO (AGAIN!!)

The content of this particular blog is, of course, complete nonsense when you actually take a moment to think about it (not that I have much expectation of that) and was obviously written so very long ago as to make all of the “current events” referred to within it utterly old hat but, well it had to turn up one day having lurked in the files for a while (and messages sent out into deep space do take a notoriously long time to get to where they are going...) and all those other references to not being able to string any new words together at the moment remain true enough for these words to remain slightly relevant today…

Here I am, waiting, with the Earth pretty much standing as still as I am, with a couple of free hours on my hands and, finally, an opportunity to spend some quality time bundling some words together for your edification and delight and, once again, I find myself staring at the wall as the tweety-birds fly around inside my head and no ideas will come.

I got home and did the list of things I promised to do this morning, the B, the other B and the C (which made it so much easier to remember), and I knocked together a sandwich to fill the food gap between lunch and a potentially very late evening meal, thus adding to my waistline instead of taking the opportunity to let hunger have its way for a while and prepare my body for the notion of expecting less when I return to my travel tube.

A strange package had awaited me upon the doormat but it wasn’t addressed to me, although the vastness of it rather surprised me when I first saw it, wondering quite how it had got there, until I noticed its general squishiness and understood that this was not dimensional atomic reformatting in action, but merely the actions of a persistent postie.

The day had been an odd one. Princes had been unwittingly broadcasting their nudity to an enquiring world who seemed to find him having human form unusual (maybe their leaders are aliens too…?) and a little old lady had gained notoriety for “restoring” a church fresco to within an inch of its life causing much hilarity amongst the artistic community who constantly have to deal with this notion that it was something the daft kids did at school and that anyone can pick up a paintbrush and produce “art…” although the Turner prize judges would no doubt have rewarded her “unique view” of the world.

Humans, eh…?

But none of these things inspire me in my word wrangling this evening.

Today, after a week or two of composition, I finally zapped off a lengthy email which I had been composing in reply to a lengthy email which I received the week before last. I have had a lengthy correspondence with a friend of mine who also walks amongst the humans with a growing sense of bewilderment, and when such effort is being put in, it’s hardly right to just reply with a swift “Cheers for that, mate!” is it…? (Although, that does seem to be an acceptable form of retort…)

Thought has to be put in, effort has to be made.

Unfortunately, with my “one-finger” typing style (caused by the compression field not being able to “do” fingers properly) and my ongoing urge to carry on rattling out daily reports nonsenses, plus the occasional paragraph in the breathtaking tale that is thundering towards a climax in the “Blog Tag Experiment” (another shameless and pointless plug for our coded messages to home planet there), the amount of “Free Time” I have (for it is never “free” considering the Mighty Zarg’s latest tax hike… Probably best to delete that…) for thoughtful composition seems to be diminishing and so my friend’s email kind of fell into a “void” for a couple of weeks, which is regrettable. I do, of course, like to attempt to get ahead of myself and, like in Lesser Blogfordshire (which has a huge backlog of unpublished part-written nonsenses all of which I take the odd peek at and decide that I’d better come up with something else instead), I would like to stay ahead of the game, have a few paragraphs in the bank before the next slice of life arrives but, sadly, I never seem to be that organised or find enough to write about from my “real” life leading to yet another round of old nonsense and wittering which I’m sure entertains no-one in the home I optimistically send it to.

Trying to blend in with the humans all of the time really saps your inspiration, you know…

If letters weren’t such “private” things, of course, I could combine the two and nick a few paragraphs, mix them up a bit and call it another blog posting but that would seem like “cheating” somehow, even though instead I find myself staring at the wall, listening to those tweety-birds and hoping that the sledgehammer of inspiration will slam home once again.

But then there are distractions.

Wit and guile (or witless bile…?) needs to be spouted in TwitWorld as I dance around the room in celebration of my one “celebrity follower” who must have accidentally clicked the wrong button and stayed around for at least an hour. Still, despite me, the old faithfuls stick around and some of them even engage in a “wee bit o’ banter” with this aging war horse, and so I am tempted to return, and try again and again to make people smile, or think, or get irritated with me (and prove, finally, that I blend in) depending upon what mood I’m in…

Yet I’m still pondering upon the meaning of it all and whether a request to remove my moderation protocols should be considered. More exchange of philosophical banter is surely to be encouraged, but I fear releasing the “ming-mongs” to do as they please with their abuse and bile and decide that protecting myself and my lovely most intimate circle of lovely chatterers is far more important than embracing an unscreened open policy.

Sometimes I think that it would be best to bring down the shutters, shut up the shop and just have a bit of a “lock-in” with the three, four or five of us huddling around our camp fire, chewing the fat and putting this world to rights, but that’s not the way to engage with the world, I’m told, even though I believe that my best “engaging” days are far behind me.

Night must fall... Chaos will reign...

Still, it’s an improvement on that “Doomsday Scenario” which happened recently and, despite the human army taking their pot-shots at me, I have sent the usual (and now overly-familiar) message to Gort and the end of the world has been averted once again…

But for how long, humanity…? How long…?