"plog; (adj.) the writing of thoughticals onto the internet webage in inconsistent bursts of dialogue rather than regular daily/weekly patterns; apposed to a (consistent) 'blog.' 'I wrote a plog about my life for those interested.' "
Jack at first wondered how to assess the many days that had passed. He wouldn't want to write a descriptive passage for each day, nor would he want to read one in someone else's plog. So Jack took hold of his wireless keyboard (because he has one though can never type too far from the screen without struggling to see) and broke down those days in a short, these-were-the-key-things, sort of way. He then thought that thoughticals he wanted to express could happen in this break down and any particularly large thoughticals could be divulged in a separate plog altogether. A follow up or sequel to this burst of dialog. "Let us see if this works" thought Jack.
Wednesday
No. Jack couldn't remember what happened on this day. This was not a good start.
Thursday
No. Jack wasn't sure what happened here either. Is this going to be a constant problem with such plogging?
Friday
Hmm. Now Jack new something happened this day but he needed to work out what. Beside from anything, this is the first day he began to feel an illness of sorts come over him - spreading like a virus, but not a virus as that sounds like something of a dirty concept. Jack is a clean person and he wouldn't want to give the wrong impression... it spread like jam over toast, not that Jack liked jam either, but this will have to do as it is better than 'virus.'
Saturday
Jack did, on this fine Saturday, go to Muswell Hill. The sun was shining and the birds were tweeting (that's the sound, nothing to do with Twitter.com - although the thought that all the birds no longer sang on beautiful mornings but all logged on to Twitter amused him greatly) It took him a little time to set off as he enjoyed the weather with a paper and a magazine outside his flat. His flattymatey even showed up for a brief moment before going off to work (for he - we shall call from now on 'Thou-That-Shall-Bounce' - is in a play at The National) And so it was lunchtime when Jack got himself out of the East Finchley area - he skipped and sang aloud (at least he did in his head) over to Muswell Hill. There he sat, not with a paper or a magazine, but with his phone. He called is Mother and spoke with her. He then realized he had very little to actually do in Muswell Hill, and headed off back.
He then went for drinks for a friends birthday. "This" Jack thought "is worthy of a separate plog tomorrow."
Sunday
For reasons you will discover in said separate plog, Jack did not rise this Sunday before mid-day. But once he did he got on a telecommunications device to his Mother again, as this day was Mother's Day. Jack successfully ignored the headache knocking on his skull. The sun shone - although accompanied by a slightly chilly breeze - and he talked outside Costa Coffee. Once Jack had completed the conversation, he planned on joining Thou-That-Shall-Bounce at a table. Only suddenly, as he aimlessly paced around while on the phone, a man started following him. When Jack changed direction in his pacing, so did this little old man. The little old man clearly had problems/issues in his mind - then Jack realized that he was using his handsfree and perhaps the little old man thought he also had problems/issues in the mind, as it might appear Jack was talking to himself. Was the little old man following him for friendship? What ever it was it was awkward as Jack really had no-where to go. To avoid a vocal exchange (he was on the phone, after-all, to his Mother on her day) Jack wondered over to Thou-That-Shall-Bounce and asked what drink he wanted. Jack hadn't finished the conversation with his mother and had no intention of getting the drink just yet, but it showed the little man that he was not talking to himself and he was in fact with someone. Someone who was not talking to himself, not today, and certainly not in public. But both his Mother and Thou-That-Shall-Bounce had no clue what he was doing and no doubt were thinking him rude - Thou-That-Shall-Bounce for not getting the drink after having asked what he wanted, and his Mother for asking someone what they want to drink while being on the phone with her on her day.
And so the rest of the Sunday panned out like this: Thou-That-Shall-Bounce and Jack went to Muswell Hill to get some late lunch and go to Sainsbury's. They finished their food late and Sainsbury's was then closed. But the lunch was nice. They discussed how they were progressing with the draft work that's to be done on The Film, and also touched upon the corruption of the monetary system of profit and scarcity. They then went back to their dwelling and did some of the said drafting on The Film.
Monday
Monday was not a good day. Something happened in Jacks body that has not happened in a longtime. Something (not a 'bug' - please see last plog - certainly not a 'bug') had made Jack's body dislike his brain! It was like they were having a fight, and Jacks personality and functionality was caught in-between this war between his body and brain. Jack got through a day of work, just, and even managed to attend a theatrical outing to see Nic Hoult in 'New Boy.' Which he enjoyed. But then he got home and his body started the battle again, and his brain was losing. It was losing fast. So...
Tuesday & Wednesday
The brain gave in. He needed his spoonful of medicine, but he had no Mary Poppins.
Movies were watched, as this was the only way Jack could be sure his brain was still there and fighting the battle, but no work could be done. The International Film Company didn't like his 2 days off - Jack knew this - but when a battle of such proportions was going on biologically, The International Film Company could 'go fuck themselves' thought Jack, politely.
The films Jack watched: Notes On A Scandal / Half Nelson / Close Encounters Of The Third Kind / Get Smart / Spiderman 2 (which by the way - Jack discovered - has an appalling script, he somehow hadn't noticed until now...)
To find out what happened when Jack returned to The International Film Company today, what his Saturday night consisted of, and what feathers, a marble and an exploding head have to do with anything... stay tuned over the next couple of days....
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