written by owen on 2014-May-24.

Like a drug you never had before. I am still, post traumatic, stress like a monkey that lost his favorite perch in the tree of life. Like a headless chicken.  Like an apocalypse of the real world. I don't think. Swimming in a narrow channel of time that is rapidly getting narrower and narrower like my finances. Only time will tell.

In a sea of bad choices you will get a mouthful of dirty water no matter how good a swimmer you are. I am in the supermarket line and the 2 women in front of me have picked up more items than their money can buy. If the lady behind me keeps bumping me with her kart I am going to get really annoyed.

I swore I wrote the last paragraph a few weeks ago and it lost in a pit of technology. I could try to dig it out but I am pretty sure that it would not be worth the extra effort it would take. Bad enough I had the previous paragraphs waiting at the alter of life for like two months or so. I shan't belay anymore fear they may wait in vain.

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