Sunday, 3rd November 2013

It is one of those special days.
Although the sun set while I still carried the heavy linen across the yard the day was still young. I enjoy working alone over the weekend and although it is dawning on me that in winter you cannot find a job for the various flaws in the British system it wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t to find gravity in this black hole.
I often think of Russia now, perhaps that’s why my attention spanned across an entire hour while watching something about the arctic and antarctic..deeply fascinating how orcas hunt in groups…pushing a sea lion off an ice shell…play with it until its too exhausted for saving from the inevitable…nearly everywhere there is a pool of blood diluted in water.

They talk of the sublime…romantic sublime when artists would go out into the wilderness and experience it. William Turner apparently stripped himself to the mast of a ship to feel the sea storm.
Thus does that mean I experience the sublime every day within my struggle for a wild social survival.

Monday, 4th November, 2013

I hate the day already…and it is not even 8 o’clock.
…when you don’t have patience to deal with other people’s incapabilities.

Tuesday, 5th November, 2013

“May you be sober forever lol”
I laugh. If I bothered more I would have sent that one to him.
My eyes always narrow when I am naughty.
Would you ever believe that the bleeding isn’t the same anymore.
-For hygenic reasons I refrain from descriptions-
Quote from the diary: “I learn to not only befriend loneliness but be in love with it…after all something to love in earnest…”

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