All About Me

I feel like I’ve not slept in days. I’m subsisting on booze and junk food. My flesh swells, cotton candy floss brushes against the back of my eyeballs, I just want to have some time off, and spend it wisely (if I can remember a way of doing that.)

We got the second issue out, it came back and it’s good, pretty, high-quality, eminently superior to the first. Now we’re on-line for two more in four weeks. Hence the blimping horror of work, as we rapidly near the end of the first. We reviewed the Xbox launch line-up in a week, some for this issue, some for next, some for the last, now there’s very little left to look at but we’ve got to grind and grind to do the rest of the magazine. It’s frustrating and difficult and the rumours of the xbox 360 missing its launch window, having less than 100,000 units in the UK and so on, hardly help.

So I go out at nights and I get drunk with people from the industry, as it’s like being asleep but fluffier, then I get home, flash myself into bed, and am back, groggy, in the office seconds later. And it happens every day, and it’ll likely happen every weekend. I had an anxiety dream last night about fleeing to Bath on the bus, and losing my stuff as I travelled due to overtiredness, my boots on one bus, my coat on another, my bags the next, chasing after the diverging buses and worrying about my boss chasing me to get into the office, as it’s nearing 1.00p.m. and I’ve missed nearly a whole half day…

A *whole* half day. The thought of spending that out of the office makes me stressed?

Why *do* people want to do this job?

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GriddleOctopus

There are few harder things in life than introducing yourself, especially in print where mellifluous nuance can turn to indulgent wankery. So. I am definitely a 'writer'. You could also call me an 'artist'. I could probably put the words 'designer' and 'consultant' here too, but they feel crass.

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