Spread wide open. The flies swarm. Rot creeps incessantly. I. Under ground. Ground under. Boot stamps down. Legs ache but no seats means no sitting. I know less than nothing. Anti-knowledge. Unspoken truths fester. Compost to help the growth of mediocrity. Nothing. Little man in a cheese canoe. Kayak. Eyes wide open but not seeing anything. Train ahead is recieving fitter's attention - what are they fitting? Just another day - as pointless as the rest. I like fish. Bish bosh. Luvverly. Wonder whether I will miss my connection. Probably. Great. Half hour of freezing my fingers off waiting for the next one. Train at Farringdon is blocking both directions. Ouch. Why do americans call a tip a gratuity? Why the need to invent a word when one already exists? I believe the word derives from gratitude - but when I hear it I think of a minor act of violence (excessive violence is gratuitous - so a minor act of violence is a gratuity). On the move again. 15 minutes to make the connection at London Bridge. Possible, but not likely... Time to change the CD.
Friday 19 November 1999
Unders fogging wealia.
1999-11-19T07:55:00Z
Russell Heilling
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