Captain’s Log

Status

Body: Exhausted, sore, sinus troubles

Spirit: Foiled again! Begrudging complacency

Mind: Primarily subconcious, very little activity of my own intent.

Once again I have elected to yield to the machines of politics and economy.  I am still unsure whether or no I believe discretion has anything to do with valor, but in the face of such an insurmountable foe as the entire world it is a necessirty of survival.  I play to win, and if that means sacrificing the glory of the day and an almost certain death, so be it.  I’ll work a shit job.  Grudgingly.

Things to note:  Eric is now working with me at the shitjob.  Mark is getting increasingly angry with numerous little things.  Jeffrey still lulls in Texas.  Busby’s getting married (!) in Novemeber and I am to be best man, and God only knows what my other Californian quasi-allies are wasting their time with these days.

Status Report:

Body: Sore Calves, Sinus congestion

Spirit: Rapid changes between angry and aggressive to glum and lethargic

Mind: Analytical and Determined

Fought with Marcos the other day as a form of therapy.  It was some small measure of good for my spirit.  I wish I could do that every day, but Marcos doesn’t want to fight anymore.  I bloodied his lip.  Eric will be next, I hope.  He’s never been in a fight before, so it should prove interesting.

Am rapidly running out of food and money.  If only I knew where I misplaced my last paycheck.

After I fought with Marcos I still was full of energy and in increasingly high and aggressive spirits, so I went running.  I ran some six miles before I fell through a railroad bridge and then ran, limping, 6 miles back.

I am also recovering from a nine day bout with bronchitus, hence the sinus trouble.

It would seem to me that my poor spirits are a reaction to being forced to work shit jobs just to survive and not being allowed to do half the things I would like to, fighting for example.

My mind is, as ever, the universe.