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crookedfingers
the confessional fragmentation of Western Christendom 
4th-May-2018 07:44 am
It is in the death flow 7:28 AM Friday here in West Michigan. It is another wet gray cloudy windy late Spring morning.

Carol left this morning to babysit Josie and Cora in Grand Rapids. Emily has gone back to work and now the girls have to be watched while Caleb works. Carol plans to bring Josie home this evening to spend the night.

Carol and I both got up this morning around 6 o'clock AM. I made oatmeal for breakfast and a fresh pot of coffee. I ate my mush messing with our main computer. After messing with our main computer I wrote in my paper diary and talked to my wife about my present state of mind. I told her I feel like I spinning around and around in circles. I am not going anywhere, but what makes me mad is that there is no where to go. All there is is right here in front of me. I am tired of the same old shit.

Last night Carol and I watched taped television shows. Carol went to bed and I sat in the dark till I decided to go to bed. Now it is another day. This morning I volunteer at the library used books store from 10 o'clock AM till 1 o'clock PM.

I am falling asleep as I write these words. I suppose I will close to face it. Last night I recall reading from a book titled, 'Night Walking: A Nocturnal History Of London' by Matthew Beaumont.
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