Sitting in a Pool of Congealing Orange Marmalade

Topics: blog, idleness

2016-02-05

I am sitting on my bed as Marisa softly coughs beside me. She is playing a game on her mobile. Perhaps it is *Pet Rescue Saga* or something similar. It entertains her. It relaxes her. She definitely needs it after the stress her children caused her today.

Also, I am downloading an image of *Archbang* linux to test. I am of the opinion that I will like it, being minimal and supposedly very quick, and shall replace Ubuntu on *galictis-vittata*. I'll have that mustelid back in my arms on Monday or Tuesday. Well, so I hope. Bastards.

I realize that I will never know true silence. The ringing in my ears prevents it. Have I ever known it in my lifetime? Surely at some point in Fort Stockton, it presented itself to me. I spent much time on the outskirts of things, literally and figuratively. I'd gamble both of my kidneys, my liver, my larynx, left femur and all of the pine martens in Canada, however, with the assurance that in my *casa* in good ol' Fort Fucking Stockton, Tejas, there existed to silence.

The television blared perpetually.

And usually it was American Football - a constant favourite. My days visiting my parents during the last years confirms my win in this gamble. Noise pollution from the *tele* punches forcefully through the door of my pseudo-bedroom and assaults me.

Deaf bastards.

tzifur (Martenblog home)

jenju (Thurk.Org home)

@flavigula@sonomu.club

CC BY-NC-SA 4.0