The Beat Begins.

To be me. Actually I'm over optimistic. After all I ain't dead. I could be dead. But I ain't.

I'm walking talking around. well walking in self enforced silence like a monk or a dumb parrot. My back doesn't break so much against the weight. After each shift I'm simply sore rather than in stiff agony. If the repeated strain runs over the bits that make up the bits that make up my backbone I'll end up spineless. This is hilarious. I feel less agoraphobic. but I'm still in general phobic. I need a drink but it clouds my thoughts worse than not. And takes a few days to brighten up. I wish i could speak french so I could hear.

blergh.