inhabited by friendly monsters, harassing myself to stinker outside the relevance of mine starngest sipirits I dying slowly am.
tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow
never happens. still I got work to do,
and always set it for tomorrow
in a strange hope that sometime it will
become yesterday, without visiting today.
just massess of work flowing away
with my childhood strangely distorted
enter and glow. in aggressive neon green
dark groom appears under my feet as I step
into the future, trying to avoid incoming
rudeness of being impolite to myself.
thus while walking inverb aside the
existence I still have hope, that
tomorrow I'll not read slashdot, nor
funfromhell, and that I'll just
get my work done.
wow. I can write a journal. incredible. can I make a blog out of it?
I bet nobody will care to answer this, but anyway - it is possible that sometimes I'll write here something plain stupid. Don't pay attention to my babbling.
btw: I hate SCO. And I'd like to see people stealing GPL code to be put into jail. One year should be enough. Like this man from KISS company: one year in jail should teach him something about respecting licencies.