PM – Waiting for ferry
Reading about Einstein is proving difficult, almost as difficult as not getting up, going to Commuter Comforts and getting a beer.
Business continuity in perpetuity, what will it do to me?
Cheap hope, a few hundred K thrown our way, the end of a rope, whose? Not yet known, but it wouldn’t hurt to tie a good knot. Hold on. Just holding on. Just. Just? Maybe more than just just. Problem discussed, I shouldn’t be fussed – lame trying to rhyme with fussed, I am fussed, filled with disgust, feeling weak and afraid and sharing that with others will lead me where? So, I’m self aware? I realize my weakness – idiosynchracies? Biochemical abnormalities. Telling people only puts me at a disadvantage. I suppose that depends on who I tell about my little hell. Hyperbolic exaggeration? It’s a concept one can choose to accept, except the precept is based on or rather has been formalized by “Religion”. I’m certain my kind of hell came first. Personal suffering (oh, poor me), mental anguish (how do I survive) must have existed before any organized religion. How did the weak survive? What form of Lamictal did they have or did they just roam raving? I’ve never been. Mine has almost always been an internal screaming.
What a load of crap.

Desperate to be happy
And feeling crappy
Hating writing words like these even as I write them. Doggerell (?) going to the dogerels. How do I emerge on the other side, because I do. I find myself engulfed in work or conversation for moments, sometimes long moments, and then that’s gone, that peace (or is it illusion, an act) transforms into my personal depression which I hide, my little secret, although I am progressively making it less secret.
Back to Einstein.