Crooked Finger (crookedfingers) wrote,
Crooked Finger
crookedfingers

  • Mood:

the words that rise from unconscious sources

It is 8:40 AM Tuesday morning in the Death Flow. Outside this morning it is 60 degrees, rainy and dismal gray. Suddenly we are back into Fall weather. We have skipped the Summer season this year. Weird.

My wife and I got up this morning at 6:30 AM. Carol is not here, she has PALS certification all day at the hospital.

The goal of the PALS Course is to improve the quality of care provided to seriously ill or injured children, resulting in improved outcomes. The PALS Course is for healthcare providers who respond to emergencies in infants and children.

When we got home I made for us a pot of coffee. I cooked Carol breakfast and then messed with our main computer. After Carol left for her class I wrote in my paper diary and wandered my cell.

I am not in the mood to read my books this morning. I am thinking of just sitting in silence today. I feel like shit today. I have not felt good in a long time. The state of the Nation has gotten me sick inside. The state of the World has gotten me sick inside. Everything around me makes me sick. It is kind of sickness that makes me angry/frustrated/mad/pissed. What can I do but make sure my small world has got solid walls to protect my inner self from bouts of insanity/despair.

Last night I read, "Ghost Milk Recent Adventures Among The Future Ruins of London On The Eve Of The Olympics" by Iain Sinclair. We went to bed early last night.

music Andy Stott 'Faith In Strangers'

There is not much else to report. Existence keeps speeding by!

a painting by James Ensor Maskers Quarreling over a Hanged Man
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