I'm at the computer, and typing this with the same degree of slow, quizzical pondering as Tom Cruise's character displays in Mission Impossible, when attempting to track down on the internet the reference "Job 3:14". Everything that I type is coming out slowly. I'm somewhat surprised that I'm even typing at all - it is one instance of the way in which my actions do not logically seem to correlate with my motivations. My state of mind is really no different now from how it was an hour ago. Yet, an hour ago - as has been the case for days, weeks - I was (I almost cannot write it) playing a computer game. And now I am writing this pseudo-confessional. What has changed?

Ah, but beyond this there isn't really anything to report. Well, nothing that I'd like to report. Not here. (It feels a little like I'm stoned, constantly, of late...)

Goodnight Mr Bond.