Wednesday 1 June 2011

If you ain't got no soul ...

You shouldn't even be here ...

It's no use complaining to me, or cursing under your breath, and it's even worse than unusual, as I'm relaxing, and having fun. I've nothing on hedge funds for you. Why don't you come back tomorrow? Maybe I'll have a conversation with ...

Does it matter? I'll have a conversation with myself. Why not? [No, I won't.] I'm exhausted. This isn't easy. I need a rest. I'm worn to a ... 'word'. I can't be bothered. Where's my willpower? Give me a break. Over 390,000 words. Plucked from genuine pain. Not the smooth words of the professional moron. The superficial ... 'word' ... they live in. That's easy. I could live like that - if only I were EVERYTHING I HATE.

It goes on, and on, and on. It never stops.

It goes on, and on, and on. It never stops.

It goes on, and on, and on. It never stops.

It's like a disease. What is wrong with me?