... but nevertheless, I insist.
I've been working hard. I have not done anything useful for me, except I'm not spending a lot and my house is clean and the clothes, all washed and ironed, except a few. I slept a lot and taken medicine for dizziness, allergies, vitamins and ointment for bacteria. I tried to read, but I can not fix anything. Anything.
I have taken a look at some things on the web. I probed Looking Glass from Sun, and today I lost a lot of time downloading wallpapers of planes and textures to work in design softwares. I'll work on my wallpapers. I have heard Zappa, and Dirty Sleep is good, so jazz.
Moreover, all is more or less okay, but I'm working too hard. I stamp thousands of invoices, open boxes, count goods and take a bus to and fro. This accomplishes nothing, except that it makes me feel useful and productive. I think I may change my own reputation for myself, going to see me less as a vagabond and more like a serious man. I'm almost 34 years and not know if I'm still a man mature and responsible as I think men should be. I know I'm lazy and I think everyone at my work thinks I'm a "Sao Paulo's tramp." But what hurts most are my dark circles. If only it was like Benicio Del Toro, purple and flat ...
Ah, my damn dark circles which denounce me as a bum ...
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