some thoughts

Start of Tuesday, doing the usual clearing up after myself at Ruby's abode before Mo and Tony return later this morning, and I've broken a vase... The only thing I recall breaking while here looking after things? The roller blinds caught the thing on the window sill and the arms come off ... 

...

Got back to the flat and there wasn't the dreaded missive from the DWP, so I thought perhaps I will be OK after all, but then this morning part of the world I've been used to since 2017 - when I won the appeal at the tribunal - fell apart and I am in the same position I was when I lost PIP in 2016 - terminally short of funds and no better mentally at all. Even though I emphasized how bad things have gotten, since the end of COVID restrictions last summer, I am back - so far back

What's the point? Why do I keep carrying on? Feeling helplessness...

The world is relentless. From every angle I feel threatened. I left the flat because the noise around it is simply too much now. So I've come down to catch the bus away from town, Roseville Road, but the traffic is neverending at 14:45...

Up Roundhay Road and it's where I can't connect with anything: middle eastern clothes shops, fast food outlets, barbers, beauty salons, booze 4 you, Blue Nile phone accessories, Vape place, a scattering of solicitors and the pawnbrokers all for a life which goes nowhere but backwards. Oh hello Harehills says KFC, which I partook of last night after the sunset and after Glenn had left me when I too should have vanished from the end of the Arndale Centre at an awful Arcadia: that used to be a Mecca and now it's steer clear: it vends the same phony Madri as every other chained pubco.