Waking up very slowly.

Thinking about one thing (and the many things that come with it) for three weeks straight nudges you into a fugue, a drunkard’s walk that ends in a slump underneath a streetlamp. I feel this way at the end of every new business pitch. The hyper-concentration drains away with the adrenalin. I am tired and my keyboard has ink blots.

The happy bit about post-pitch fugue is everyone is extra nice to you, and doesn’t bug you too much. So today I decided to bring the PSP and zone out on arcade games, which demand only my fingers and eyes, and some part of my brain that isn’t wondering what day it is. Oh, and there’s lunch to be figured out, but I can spare a couple of neurons for that.

It’s a good Monday.