So, the schedule, even with a new computer, I've utterly failed to abide by. You comrades, if any of you are lurking out there (otherwise I am literally akin to a yelling old man out in the middle of a park {videlicet nowhere} at Eleven in the nime), I owe you an explanation. I have felt acutely exhausted, and inert, for the past two weeks. I feel the drive to move and labour, but in my chest, I feel stagnation and the failure of the anatomical machine to operate properly. I end up wasting the whole of the day on a chair, attempting to forget about the stiff or cloudy sensation emanating from my centre. Did it ever occur to me that I might be ill, you ask? Well, no. I am of a certain kind, that unleß I am intensely ailed with a disease that much more directly affects me in a negative fashion, I will not consider the woes of my wasting to be protruding from infection.
I apologise, comrades. Comrade Lenin was kennst for soliciting comrades about monitoring their health and particularly refraining from overworking themselves. I have made just the opposite of that error; I have allowed this illneß to fester, until now it is consuming hours which might be spent at labour on this blog. I swear to try my best to produce as much content in the coming week as I am able to summon the strength for. Red Front!
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