Money

I have no money. Apropos of my situation in general, I am not at all happy. In complete contradiction to my former statement, which was hyperbole, I do have some cash but only £23 pounds for the rest of the week; then £50, then £50... I neither know where the stuff goes nor derive any positive benefit from whatever journey it undertakes. Further, the fact that it undertakes said journey in Kingston (of all the towns in all the world) contrives to leave me even more embittered.

I really don't know what I'm doing anymore but I am tied to this wheel I am on by invisible threads of general ex-polytechnia. My mood will no doubt swing faster than a bye-election after a protest vote but I feel I must repeat, I don't know what I'm doing, what I've done, where I'm going or what I want... I don't want anybody's reassurances, I don't want anything; although a small part-time job could offset my immediate troubles, if not the general malaise... On top of all this, I feel like the biggest brat in all the world for complaining about my mediocre life while there are so many people in a much worse situation than I am; then again, if you can't moan on your blog, where can you moan?

A little moisture appeared around the visual organs today in the Abbey (a bank, not a place of worship), reading this from Edward Lear:

"They rode through the street, and they rode by the station,
They galloped away to the beautiful shore;
In silence they rode, and 'made no observation',
Save this: 'We will never go back any more!'
And still you might hear, till they rode out of hearing,
The Sugar-tongs snap, and the Crackers say 'crack!'
Till far in the distance their forms disappearing,
They faded away. - And they never came back!"

If only...