I read things I have written here and I feel pretty much sick and sad.
Aero never comments any more, I am ranting and raging to myself, it has no meaning nor theme nor any coherent structure.
Neither does my life, but that is no excuse.
Going out on my bicycle is not an answer, but I am unable to sleep and have no answer.
Tomorrow I shall go to work - Aero is left alone again and it will, no doubt, feel like an act of anger and spite. How I ache and rage against the wastefulness of my life that has left me deposited here washed up with a dead end recycling job and not much hope of any future.
But that is the talk of poor me and he is DEAD.
Long live manic me.
Now let's get those screens tested and sorted and let's get the shit stowed and let's haul ass and build computers and sell the fuckers to bring in the money to pay the man.
And let's kiss ass and apologise too while we're at it - everyone has to eat shit some of the time.
10:29 PM
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