's all day long I think about Lawrie.
Blame for half speech made before going to sleep.
E 'as if my thoughts were finished in a strange mechanism that makes them go down and then go back and bring with them when Lawrence and his smile.
E 'all day I fight with the netbook.
E 'slow and I can not do what I should do.
No evidence, no certainties, no organization.
E 'from yesterday that M. I repeat: "Every day is a new life."
The life of this day is about to end, I do not mind.
I'm wearing that state of dissatisfied with melancholy.
I could put myself to look carefully the causes, but do not think it necessary.
bangs his head against some organizational nodes and finally I can say that if it does not do evil however tired.
continue to think about Lawrie.
continue to bang your head still for a few hours and then I'll end with this body and forget this life, at least until I wake up again.
last-minute information: the USB stick in the netbook works, only that it is so slow that I want to tie myself to a log and tear the liver near the stuffed eagle Mc Donald's.
The eagle was kindly donated by S. I last year.
While cursing to myself because I just spilled a cup of tea, I came back to mind another piece of speech, made long ago, in which I was reminded of dividing life from work.
Work is work.
It 's a continuous opening and closing doors, or is the Rubik's cube.
Life as a Rubik's Cube If you can do each face of the right color and you do it by themselves without taking the colored squares, well, you were good.
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