Guilt Is Also A Way For Us

I Think It's Good To Look At How People Lived Before, And Then Take The Best Bits Of That Culture And Try To Mix It In With Your Own.

Embrace The Faff. Stare Out Of The Window. Bend Paperclips. Stand In The Middle Of The Room Trying To Remember What You Came Downstairs For. Pace. Drum Your Fingertips. Move Papers Around. Hum. Look At The Garden.

...[w]e Should Be Mucking About All The Time, Because Mucking About Is Enjoying Life For Its Own Sake, Now, And Not In Preparation For An Imaginary Future. It's Obvious That The Mirth-filled Man, The Cheerful Soul, The Childish Adult Is The One Who Has Least To Fear From Life.

Life Has Been Reduced To A Series Of Long Periods Of Boredom In The Office Punctuated By High-octane "experiences" Which You Can Rack Up On Your List Of Things To Do Before You Die. That's Not Really Living: That Is Slavery With The Occasional Circus Thrown In.

Alongside My "no Email" Policy, I Resolve To Make Better Use Of The Wonderful Royal Mail, And Send Letters And Postcards To People. There Is A Huge Pleasure In Writing A Letter, Putting It In An Envelope And Sticking The Stamp On It. And Huge Pleasure In Receiving Real Letters, Too.