Ah, once again we begin to come upon the final pages, upon the end of our journey together. Pressure. I’ve been given prime opportunity to fill them as I showed up an hour early for work, and oh shucks I’m sorry we can’t afford the extra hours. A reminder, or acknowledgment, that my time costs $9.25 for each hour. Ah well.
The last few days have me rocking and rolling both in life and the markets. This virus has cost me (thus far) a quarter of my stock “wealth”, teaching me some valuable lessons along the way. Right now I’m hoping on a boost along the wave of Royal Caribbean, we’ll see what weekend “wisdom” shall bring. (5/3 note: thankfully jumped that ship. Yeah…)
Our lease expires this month and we sure as hell are excited we can contractually move out. To say the manner of the station was less than desirous seems most polite considering my temperament.
We found a new place, we shall see what delights it shall bring. It seems largely promising, though the landlord left me feeling disconcerted. He had a strange vibe, a potential of threat seeming unknown. Glad for the dogs and extra security we shall bring. (5/3 note: trusted gut, found different location and could not be happier with new home. A kind reminder to listen to instinct)
The Democrats are about to elect an actual demented old man, and they are acting most assuredly certain that they shall win. Hubris comes second nature to these losers, certainly the dearest privilege they command. Pandering institutionalist fearmongering bastards, deserving of the misfortunes that befall them.
At least it becomes slightly entertaining to watch. He talks it so much, let’s just wait and see for the moment the old fool actually reaches out to slap someone. Better yet, the old lecher will grab at some flesh he doesn’t own, oh what fun.
Perhaps I’ve wasted these lasted pages in aimless amblings, well more aimless than the rather aimlessness of the whole, but perhaps that’s the only way final pages should really exist. Either my point will continue only to be too soon cruelly cut-off, or else I’ll be left with extra pages unused and for my leisure.
What more common thoughts of leisure than politics, home, and family.
The blank page leaves us raging at the void of potential left unsaid. Perhaps though we should instead hope for it. Perhaps though instead the blank page just leaves more to be filled by the next. Perhaps.
No, our sanctity would demand we preserve as the dead left behind, and if not sacred we would dump it in the closest bin.
We want to be wholly our own, our words PERSONAL and unmired by the taint of another, hence our ““”” around the insertion of the outside, both for their ego and ours. If so, pray, why then should anyone denigrate themselves to read this?