platitudes-from-the-plateau dept.

At times like these, things even themselves out nicely. There is nothing to look forward to in anticipation, nothing to smoulder at in resentment, and no ghosts to retire into their graves. There is just the vague sensation of being.

Life moves at a steady, humdrum pace, and the indomitable fear for personal survival kicks in and provides the only sustenance.

There's some distant rumbling up-ahead. Hopefully there might even be a nice, ass-kicking storm coming to dispel the monotony of existence.