Er... Numb

Need some blog time out because my head is weirding out on me. One of the stories I have to do is about a dance/mixed media production about David Hicks, the Australian terrorist suspect being detained at Guantanamo Bay, so I have a fair bit of reading both about his detention as well as those involved in the performance. Another story is about the world premier of a play written by the author taking a leak in this column I wrote last year (if I meet him or am in contact with him I might send the column to him - I'm reasonably sure he wouldn't have been keeping up with my rantings in a clubbing magazine).

There is also the short play, which I am keen to get into. I'd like to have had that finished today.

However it is now 3pm and I have spent ALL freakin' day reading about GST on the Australian Tax Office's website, dicking about with MYOB, trying to correct incorrect invoices and all sorts of other shit to do with numbers. Fuck! I don't like numbers. I don't like them at all. I think the world would be a much simpler place if there were no numbers. Kill all numbers... starting with the number 5. Aesthetically, it displeases me greatly.

At least if there were no numbers there would have been one (damnit - there's another of the fuckers!) less time The Dreaded One shook her head at me, when upon opening what could very well have been a bank statement, she asked me what it was. "I dunno," I replied vaguely. "Someone appears to have sent us some numbers."

Right, it's back to some work that doesn't involve numbers.