Screw it! Fuck restraint, we all know I love working

Oh sure. Monday morning like today I like. I so want to, with a fist on my lips,stride like a knight in combat.

...with gooey cluster of windmills, which accumulated in my work-garden. I suspected for this to happen. Group work, despite ostensibly uniting powers, is moving three times slower than solo. It means that mess is thirteen times larger, and tuning the instruments is 30 times longer, and uncertanity of action probably three hundred times heftier, if all, what according to plan was supposed to get done, is after all accomplished, and it wont get lost in the field of red beets. Because someone, something, somewhere. Maybe I will get used to it :)

My own desk, and my own corner.
My very own project, my own work computer, my very own field to plant flowers to honour the system.
Hell, I dont know. For now? For some time?
Until I make enough to buy my very own gypsy wagon, and folk group to play violin when I go to bed.
Naaaaaaaaaah...... temporary solution: a mighty swamp of most lives. Substitutionary, and temporary- just like a temporary car.

Curriculum vitae, which actual version is actually in service, with the screenwriter. To iron, to ennoble, meanwhile, in the meantime you drive the "temporary Curriculum vitae".
Years at the time.

Oh no no no.
I will either love what awaits me ( "You did everything? You still have some time? Because, you know we have this loophole here, appears, just for You")....or I will restore the silence and harmony which -didnt quite remember- after all I did have.

The world didnt fall apart. "After all it's just my job"- I reapeat, and astonsihed listen, when they take me into account time after time. I nod my head- for now.

I wont let that happen- and here you have my pledge, signed with the blood from the elbow I ripped on the fence in the back yard three life times ago- I wont let it happen. You know, that situation form "The Generation X" : total spam after robbery apprenticeship at the work place, and then the suburbs, and a job, to losen up somehow.

Restraint, restraint, restraint....the Angel repeats over one ear. The Devil over the other one passionatily whispers: Screw it! Fuck restraint: we all know I love working.