seventh-day

My life has neatly lapsed into a perfect mess, too many things on my mind and too little mind to process them. It’s quite sad, isn’t it? that mere living has become quite the chore. It’d been perfectly fine and dandy to attribute lofty ideals to my commitments at the start but it’s August and I’m done with that. It’s been about churning out substandard stuff because there isn’t enough of you for everything, and a small growling but manageable backlog is about as efficient as I can muster.

Sunday morning rain is falling

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