Ironically titled as I use the internet to bitch about it. I'm thankful for all the things I'm able to read with such ease. I should read more actual books. Th feel the pages slide inbetween my fingertips. The smell of them. The not illuminated by light but by thought beautiful pages.
I suppose it can too go on the list of why I hate it. Not reading enough real books. No real people to be in contact with. No adventures. The swell of my imagination wasted on porn and trolling. I couldn't work for 3 months. What the hell else do you do with a broken leg? Nothing... just the fucking internet. Now I'm fucking sick of it.
No Ed at work today. I'm grateful. I'm crossing my fingers it will be the same for the next two weeks. And maybe forever. Someone did ask me about him.. a couple times. I just told them I hadn't talked to him or seen him in a month or so. So I had no clue how or where he was. Glad to be back to work in general though.
But I do hate the fucking internet. This shit is driving me mad. I'm still a little gloomy I don't have friends but there's been a couple of people lately that have surprised me. That's nice too.
I need to get out more. Car. Besides surviving ... #1.
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