Wake up, Brain. Final warning...

I'm struggling to come up with anything to put in this space at the moment. I started something, looked for pictures, everything (not unlike Davey, but I figured rather than leave him a comment I could post it here- the photo above is from an abandoned piece I had started about the decline of Ashcroft). But looking back at it, it's just a futile rant. Something I'm trying to move away from as a waste of energy and an unattractive trait. Emphasis on the latter, obviously, as I'm a total narcissist.

I've been trying to rationalise this brainfreeze. I've noticed in the past couple of years a distinct lack of joy in doing anything. I lost interest in my job, then all jobs. I even lost interest in meaningless night-time encounters and, most alarmingly, drinking and recreational drugs. They did make work marginally more interesting for a while, though. Quite a while, in fact.

I'm not depressed, just a bit... muted. Unless I'm really drunk - like, Davey drunk - you can't tell I'm over the edge, even if I feel twatted. And I looked a bit stoned for about seven years, so I suppose it's hard to tell what's going on behind the veneer. I'm not drunk, high, happy, sad. I'm just Dan. The bitter cynic who never has a bad word for anyone. Im not looking for sympathy; I think everyone feels like this. Which is probably the worst thing about it.

Plus of course, I'm pretty new to my job, and the only Englishman here. The French-Canadians have their 'tabernac' and the Dutch have, er, moaning about everything. That would be a sweeping generalisation, but I mean the Dutch crew not the entire race. They have a 'been there, done that, where's the shopping mall?' approach to being on tour and having everything paid for. At least for the Canadians, it's mostly new. They walk around, do the tourist thing. Drink, have fun, don't worry about buying a round of drinks...

The crew like me, I'm pretty sure, but they know nothing about me. I'm not big on anecdotes and I have to avoid the politics of work. The moment I take a side, I'll find myself alone; ratted out and deserted. And all the time, my English phone is less and less active, if increasingly expensive. My old friends are edging away from me. I don't know them anymore. And my new friends are dicks.

Still, i keep telling myself it's a means to an end. If anyone can point me towards the finish line, I'll be on my way.

I don't like to end on a down-note, so here's some of my trademark self-deprecating wit, stolen from someone else.