(You have much candy for me?)
I have ceased living an interesting life, for the time. I'm in a museless lull; an auto-tatertot.
If I had any moral courage I would stop writing here, though that represents a cessation of self-pleasure. We then risk me writing in my sleep. Nocturnal Onanisms.
It is safest and bestest to continuest for the futurest.
Boredom:
There was having a child. That was a content-creator for some time.
Then, there was splitting up with a wife. Even I have bored of that, though I must have been among the very last.
Now, I go to work and the gym. There are not enough stories to tell concerning those things.
I don't give a shit about politics, or music, or people right now. I haven't taken a picture since Halloween night and didn't try much that night at all.
I've only been reading lacklusterly. Google is trying to tell me that's not a word, lacklusterly.
I say it is. It very is.
Arguing with an online algorithm is a close proximity to prayer for the hairy of this damned age.
Why Algo, why?
(Gimme some chocolate, now...)
(I become a trick dinosaur ghost. Boo!)
.
