Here we are. The day is the afternoon or the evening. I think it’s the afternoon. I can’t tell with time anymore.
It’s the afternoon. Should be the evening. It is not.
I am so confused with time right now. Last week I had five weeks left on my work contract. Now I have less than two. I don’t know what’s going on anymore. Where am I? Who am I? What delectables await me over yonder? Is there even a yonder to go over to? I don;’t know anymore. I don’t know anything. I don’t know everything, either. I’m in a state of knowing so much nothing that I don’t know anything.
Where is everyone? How is everyone? Where do I find myself when I am looking square.y in the eyes of the precipice of blissful dilation if the contrapuntal extremities are not being embraced by the dissemination transmissions upon which where those colours known as cerulean and azure blend to form some sort of whimsical testimony generator?
What am I even going on about?
I find that I’m just getting everything out right now, and getting everything out is right on, or right off. It depends on where the perspective of the view lies, and those views are not doing much for my fortifications in the west of… my bedroom, I guess. However, if there are other ways around the forests and the moors of their world, then I am not one who will fight against all of this.
However, I will definitely be doing more writing tomorrow, unless I don’t, in which case I won’t. Considered yourselves warned. Consider yourselves aghast at the amount of crap one person can churn out.
So I don’t know what I am doing right now. I mean, I do know, but I don’t know. Therefore there is a sense of mystery. There is a sense of the unknown. A dense fog rises and covers everything. Detail is smeared and erased, and terrible times await those who refuse to find themselves healthily contained within the solitude in which their attitude reigns supreme.
Okay. Maybe I need to stop writing right now. Maybe I should just rest. I still have a few hours to go, but rest could be good. Rest could be desirable, even. However, I am possessed by a dire temerity and so I must persist, even though it is unwise to do so.
When I think of what I am doing right now, I think I am just trying to get a lot of silliness out of my system. I’m also trying to help myself feel like I haven’t wasted the day. Now I know that I haven’t. I was working, after all. However, I do also feel that I have. I feel that I need to try and do something with it, even if that something is just spewing words onto a digital screen. If I do that, then perhaps there is some meaning in the day that isn’t related to just throwing a bunch of emails out there and throwing a bunch of messages at people.
I can keep writing silly things, but if I do that I might be attacked by some sort of shark of the annoyed variety, for all these words must go somewhere and they certainly aren’t going into the recycling. Perhaps I must ingratiate myself to the sharks. Ingratiate myself to the creatures of the oceans so that they don’t engage in some sort of uprising against my ridiculous quest to do whatever it is that I am doing.
So I guess I should think about things a bit more, really. Try to apply for more jobs. Do all of those things. Hope for the best. Hope that something happens that’ll allow me some sort of rest. A lengthy torpor, maybe. Something that allows me to rest my pharyngeal region, for even though I have not worked on the phones for nearly two years now, it still needs rest.
I think that I’m starting to get a bit excited about things happening. I don’t know if I am,. but I think I am. But I need to write more silliness. I need to find a way to force my windows to work the way they’re intended to, also. They live a fairly sedentary life, and sure that’s all fine and all, but they need to work in a way where they don’t need to be propped open in order to have them open. They are not operating the way they are meant to. This does not please me. I am displeased. I am so displeased that I don’t think I will write more silliness. I think that, instead, I will find the way I need to find that shows me the way to get out of the hay of life and thus onto the moving walkway of success, of which will be done in an order best described as “subsequent”. Once that happens, I’m set. I’m all good. I’ll be where I want to be and there will be someone who will be where they need to be, and that will be me. Success will finally be mine. Finally.
I am so tired of the struggle. I’m tired of the churn of work days, but I can do this. I can write silliness for now, and that interests me right now. It helps take the edge off a bit and it’s helping me cope with the upcoming potential unemployment. I don’t know what comes next. It’s all scary. I still persist, however. There is no point in me not persisting. It won’t solve anything, so I need to keep chugging along, keep on writing, keep on working toward the end of this blog and then suddenly win the lottery so I can finally have some rest.
Then I can spend some time feeding the fish and catching up on reading my books, and that’ll show everyone. That’ll show them who the real boss is.
The time it took to write one thousand words: 13:16:65
Decent speed. Not my finest bit of gibberish, but decent speed.
Written at home.