It's closer each passing day

I am sitting on the couch of living / dinning room and the day has already risen. Outside, the neverending cycle of people getting out of home to go to work has already begun. Some others, might be just arriving from their works. Others, might be returning from their night out partying. I am, however, sitting down on my couch, listening to music from youtube, smoking my cigarettes, eating cakes or cokies and drinking water. Lots of water.
I have spent the night doing this and that and doing nothing at all. I have spent the night checking articles online seing cute videos of animals and even one of a Nepalese boy who defended his goat pet from getting slaughtered on a sacrifice ritual (haven't I read that Nepal has a festival in honor of dogs, due to their friendship and loyalty?). In the meantime, I read an article of June about one fadista (fado singer) that was giving a free concert in Lisbon. The article was from a Portuguese website, that also has an e-mail system, blog and a whole paraphernalia of features. In the past, I have had an e-mail account there and I have been thinking on using that platform to write my thoughts there. Yes, I know I have at least three blogs, but I need to do some cleanings and corrections on here and there, so why not using a Portuguese platform during the meantime? About my words in English, I am heading towards wordpress, where I have tried toget an account too, but it seemed way complicated to me. Perhaps, today is the day that I head towards those steps an do what I have been delaying.
Every single fucking day is another day that people piss me off a bit more. It means that every fucking single fucking day I am in a bigger hurry to write and write, even if it is on my blogs, to spit blasphemies to the Gods of perfection that are most fucking humans. It's closer. It's so closer to my birthday, to my trip headed to North, to peace quiet and silence, green everywhere, mountains, lots of woods to walk through... I need to start this cleaning, editing, maintenance... choose you, Gods of fucking perfection and of fucking political and ethical correct what words suits it the best. Because it is each passing day closer. And I suspect I might start up today.

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