I Love This Office
Well, I’m sat here at work and the triumvirate of managing directors have left the building. It’s raining. Water has started to leak through the ceiling and is dripping down the wall behind me like it normally does when the weather gets this bad. Oh, and I’ve got writer’s block. Not fun. I’ve been working on this track for a certain producer’s album for a couple of weeks now, and I’m about two thirds of the way there, but I seem to have hit the wall. I’m sitting here in my cheap office chair, monitor turned in slightly so other drones cannot see what I’m up to. Of course, it’s not the Internet. Oh no. That was taken away from me a long time ago, after an unlucky moment when I was away from my desk and the MD’s daughter – who had jumped on to my computer – was greeted by a flirty msn conversation from my girlfriend at the time. Shit. Just to make things worse, she practically gloated at the fact she was going to grass me up to her dad, at which point I had to hold down my temper as if I didn’t keep this job, things could get a lot harder.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah… writer’s block. Yep. Its still there. Actually, it’s less of a block, more of a monolith, towering above me in my path. It pretty much appears and disappears completely at random. Only way I can check if its there is to try and write something, and nothing’s happening at the moment, so its presence has been declared. I haven’t yet found a reliable method to get round the mental blockage in ten years of writing tracks. Like a sandstorm in the Kalahari you’ve just got to sit tight until it’s over. Put the coffee on. Play a couple of games of Pro Evo. Read your emails. Well, I’ve done the coffee; I obviously can’t play Pro Evo in the office (although I did once try to upload Football Manager onto my computer after the internet was taken away, but surprise surprise – I needed administrator privileges), so I checked my emails. Only today, the inbox is empty. Sake. What’s wrong with people today? Do all my friends with office jobs have fuck loads of work today? I certainly don’t. I never have enough work. But I don’t like my work enough to ask for more, and if I did, it could open up a whole world of pain. This is where I curse the five years I spent at university, studying for a degree which has so far had a negligible effect on my career path. Fuck it. It’s done. No point having regrets.
The water is now dripping through the ceiling and splashing down onto the window sill. A couple of drips away from becoming a steady stream. This can’t be good for me. Still, at least I’ve got an excuse for an extra sick day every so often. Got to look on the bright side. This isn’t exactly the most exciting day I’ve had for a while. It’s always a bad sign when it’s Tuesday and you’re longing for the weekend already. Not good at all. A common occurrence though. Tuesday. Even if it was Wednesday it’d be more acceptable, but its today. 1:30pm and still three and a half hours of this bullshit to go. I’m only writing this due to a journalist friend who suggested I ghostwrite a column for them – I wasn’t sure whether anything I wrote would be interesting to anyone, so this was kind of like a trial run. 700 words they wanted. A quick word check reveals that I’m almost there. That wasn’t too hard. I wonder if the writer’s block is still there. Doesn’t feel like anything’s changed. The office is still quiet apart from the concrete trucks rattling by outside the dripping window, and some of the noisier drones that like the sound of their own voice a little too much. Me? I don’t think I’ve spoken that much today. Head down in my corner desk, the tap tap tap of the rain ticking down the seconds till I get released for the night. A miserable metronome, nicely complimenting the light above my head that’s started flickering right this second. I love this office.
