Resources exist to be consumed. And consumed they will be, if not by this generation then by

Days stack upon the days in precarious succession, you find yourself waiting on the collapse.

Yesterday I was... There was some kind of actual pain involved, like - a pressing overwhelming feeling that I'd been utterly defeated, that destruction was thick and laying over me. Then I got paid. That helps. I got Young Agatha her birthday presents and had some absurd dinner. Wait. Wait. I should tell a story. Some stories, a lot's happened.

Tuesday I spent a long, long time getting to the doctor. The turn of the month means that some of the buses have changed or swapped drivers and that means that routes are all fucked. Usually this sucks, but in the winter depths that we're up against here now, it means a lot of forlorn head-shaking and dismaying long walks on the street. I got checked out by the doctor like you do, and then went to let them get some of my blood to sniff. Who's there but J. Tilk - Danielle's husband - a nicer man you'll never meet. I was pleased to see him, and we were both up to getting ourselves checked out and up. He was goodly and kind and gave me a lift home. I spent the rest of the day being sad about not having any spare change for Laundry and not enough of anything useful to make an actual meal out of. Garlic bread and beans - I rule it, sufficient. The doctor seemed like he thought I was fine, so I was contented with that. But tired. And, tired. I ended up, what did I end up doing? I talked on the phone. It was good, I like talking on the phone with her. And then I went to bed and felt a lot of things but none of them were what you'd call sleepy - so I ended up being up all night till all hours and then I got up to go to work and went to work and felt extremely fragile and exhausted. Anymore exhausted is the word. These days, stacking up - the foundation of the daily grind is sleep and good humor and I found myself running very short of both.

Midway through I got paid though, and that improves everything a lot. I went to book my March Party (which, you can come to if you want) that's at Whirlyball and Laser-Tag. It's a good thing that I started doing for us, me and A and my cousins and mother and aunt - all of us in March, we have our big party together that I invented. It's rather expensive. I should point out that it's rather expensive - not because I think you should say something about it, but just, because it matters for the rest of the story.

So Danielle comes at me on the text message to quiz me about her monthly check and I said anytime, whenever, and then she got after me to help her pay for her birthday party she wants to throw for Agatha on... On the same day as our now large and famous traditional party? I'm all: Well, no. And then she says, well, what about giving me money to throw a party? and I'm all well, no. Because I'm already throwing this big party that I always do! And... I already pay her every month! But she got fired from her job I guess and now...

Man, fuck I don't know, but it seems fucking crazy for her to come at me for money about this. Anyway I said no. And then she, I don't know, tried to make me feel bad about it? I don't even know, what the heck.

After work I went and bought up Young Agatha's birthday presents and lootful treasures and then got my roll of quarters and rode around in a car, all... just warm, just okay and not freezing and not too sad. We drove off in all directions lost, thinking - we'll find something to eat somewhere and it turned out we were driving around in all directions just looking, it turns out for the IHOP - so gross diner food to sustain us in our chilled confusion, and then exhaustion and tiredness and, just depletion, all around. I come home and go into my bed and am so fucking defeated and spent. I just want, oh, any amount of comfort or warmth. I'm so beat.

Wake up ahead of the alarm, I sit looking at the internet in the morning and my test resutls come back and I don't know, I guess maybe some of the tale is told?

This fucking town this fucking winter this fucking job in a windowless room this fucking darkness. I am dying like a prisoner, the days are stacked up precariously, one on top of the other. I cry, very briefly in the shower, one, two sobs I think, and then I'm together and go to work.

Which is arduous and stupid and entails a lot of complex correction owing to the foolishness of one old man. That damned old man who is my ruin. In fact I'm still recovering data. Still, as in now, as in remote connections to servers. And... I feel everything and stare at the progress bar that does not move enough all day. Progress bars. And then and then and then - there's more, a lot more. I talk to her all the while, watching the progress bar never move enough. I fix the printer for some people. I work my work and take calls.

I think all about how I have to go, afterwards to try and buy a vitamin so I don't fucking die, I guess. So I don't die from the cold and darkness. Seriously! The Cold and Darkness trying to straight up break my bones.

in the midst of course I get my prizes -

A nice first edition for myself for my birthday.

and a nice bottle of Scotch from FMF, the second greatest man I can imagine.

And then the buses home, not too sluggish and the sun is coming out and the sidewalks are visible, and there's a little thaw, and I go and get vitamins and I come home and connect back remotely and write her an email and write in my diary and wash the dishes and prepare the laundry and find the little peace that I needed to have.

The days stack up, one on the other precariously.