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Dear f%@*ng diary...

Published by DaWalrus in the blog DaWalrus's blog. Views: 180

Floating through every day like a scuba diver in murky water.
Some sunlight reaches from the surface, but not much. Half my brain,
one of the hemispheres, permanently in some dreamy realm, as if I were
a fish. There is no mental presence in the moment, it's fucking impossible.
I remember that state when I first went to an American hight school,
back in late 80's. Having to get up early together with the long bus ride accross
half of San Francisco achieved that effect as reliably as of some dangerous,
illicit drug. After school, I had to go deliver newspapers, half asleep
the whole time.

Today I finally got around to blogging. And to answering dad's email, he was trying to
figure out which tablet to buy for mom and grandma. One would think,
a software engineer, even at his age, would not sound like ``all dat
tukhnologah stuff is too complicated,'' but there you have it. Sent
me a list of four trivial requirements which, pretty much, amounted to that
toy being good enough to read a book. How can I give him a specific answer
recommendation to what describes the whole damn market?
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