It is effing cold. I really want to say it is FUCKING cold except that Google (inc., earth overlord) will likely put up a notice that you can’t read the word until you give them your phone number, a couple credit cards and $60 cash to prove you are an adult.
The cold does help my head from overheating, but makes the extremities very cold. We sleep with open windows. The fact that we sleep with open windows AND run an air conditions is likely why Fran, our snooping manager, opened the door for me while at the same time pressing herself against the wall with her head turned away, so as not to endure the sight of me. I choose to think she means well, or that she is trying to be chaste regarding her lust which overwhelms her at the sight of me.
They tell me that Xmas and New Years are coming. And going. For us ‘time confused’ folks, it seems like every date is either coming or going.
To those viewing this season and its hustle bustle with solitude, I suggest that you email me. In return, I will endeavor to start each day by responding. I suggest this because I am sympathetic from experience of the aching solitude of seeming to live on the same planet, but in a different world at Xmas. It can becomes painfully clear that the connections or enjoyment of this time of year have something to do with a social bubble that doesn’t extend to all.
This is what I think I can do, and that is my choice. Taking that chance to risk by emailing might be yours. take the chance is yours. My email is: email@example.com.
For those with Spotify, this song, God Yu Tekem Laef Blong Mi, gives me pleasure: song
1 day ago