{∅, {∅}, {∅, {∅}}} : Rage Against the Meat Grinder

As I am going through H-87_2005, which I am taking far less from than the notebook just before it, I came across a page that is screaming to be posted here in this forum. 

I had just been granted rental assistance and had moved (in May) from a welfare motel infested with bed-bugs.  Evidently the tiny critters came with a blanket I should have parted with. 

11 June 2005

What is one to "do" with one's life?   One need not "do" anything.  Life itself does all the necessary "doing".

At the moment, what I am doing with my life is feeling sharp pains in my stomach.  It could be hunger.  It could be alcohol poisoning.  It could be dehydration from the heat.  Life is doing me, breathing itself. 

I forsee drinking iced tea for as long as possible before succumbing to beer.  I forsee a nap.  I forsee making some headway reading Under The Volcano.  I forsee a swim - a dive into Matawan Lake.

What about my nephew?  Will he be coming by to eat?  I made one of those rice and vegetable concoctions.  Damn, I'm hungry and yet I don't want to eat.  Maybe I'll get down some eggs.  Yes, this is The Mojo Manual.  It reeks of the true nature of our lives:  that we are tubes that eat and sh-it and will end up bones in the dirt.