'tis the season

Too many things to say, really, with no real idea how to say them. Inside, there is much bubbling, and if you listen closely, you can hear the faint high hiss of escaping steam, but the lid is firmly on, my friends. For now.

At some point, at some point I'll put it all down.

Meanwhile, I hope your Chirstmas was tolerable. Machineboy reveled in his toy guitar, his off-off brand gameboy, his Tom & Jerry cartoons with a preface from Whoopi Goldberg telling us it was allright to enjoy these old cartoons with racist trophes, and he was only mildly put off by the fact that a couple of presents from well-meaning but forgetful adults required, but did not come accompanied by, batteries of various sizes and styles.

As for me, I received only one gift, from a friend, but it was alcohol, so that's allright.

Here's hoping nobody else gets trampled to death in pursuit of post-season deals.

non-announcement

I suppose this would be considered liveblogging. I'm sitting at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf at the base of Suntec Tower Four, my habitual haunt. It's a Sunday afternoon. I have an internet connection and a laptop, and I'm not afraid to use either. It's just that I don't have much to say.

Or rather, there is much to say, but I don't find myself particularly interested in saying any of it. All of it is either too mundane or to full of portent. That's the way it goes, sometimes.

But still, I'm alive, I'm kicking, and just wanted to report in.

You may resume your regularly scheduled surfing.