[Back earlier than I thought I would be.]
I'm not sure this is the smartest thing he's ever done. (Has he done it?) But it's probably too late to stop him. (Is Jonathan there now, as head of strategy? It doesn't bear thinking about.) Of course, he will have to give up being one of the Guardians of the Mystic Candle.
I blame the parents. We all know how little time I have for Martin Sorrell. (Well, I know, obviously. How could I not know?) I have no time for Martin Sorrell. And I'm not calling him "Sir". I don't care how many queens he's friendly with.
Man Group. I can't believe it. Of all the firms. All Jonathan had to do was speak to the GLG boys. They would have told him everything. It's probably too late.
I'm not feeling any better. I don't want to write the way I was writing this morning. If I can't get this shit out of my system by the time of my fresh start next week I might ... well, use your imagination. And this post? Oh, this post may look okay on the surface, but there's something terrible beneath the words, no, no, no - or rather in the spaces between the words. Between the lines? No, it's worse than that. Can't you read? I wrote: the s p a c e s. Even the spaces, very small spaces, between letters, even. Yes, e v e n. You see? What's wrong with you? Are you sick in the head?
Why am I taking it out on you? I apologize. You don't deserve this. And now I have devil faces in the curtains, caused by the sunshine. I deserve this? No, I don't. Life isn’t fair. We're all suffering, aren't we? I certainly hope so. I don't want to be the only one.
I'm not sure this is the smartest thing he's ever done. (Has he done it?) But it's probably too late to stop him. (Is Jonathan there now, as head of strategy? It doesn't bear thinking about.) Of course, he will have to give up being one of the Guardians of the Mystic Candle.
I blame the parents. We all know how little time I have for Martin Sorrell. (Well, I know, obviously. How could I not know?) I have no time for Martin Sorrell. And I'm not calling him "Sir". I don't care how many queens he's friendly with.
Man Group. I can't believe it. Of all the firms. All Jonathan had to do was speak to the GLG boys. They would have told him everything. It's probably too late.
_________________________
I'm not feeling any better. I don't want to write the way I was writing this morning. If I can't get this shit out of my system by the time of my fresh start next week I might ... well, use your imagination. And this post? Oh, this post may look okay on the surface, but there's something terrible beneath the words, no, no, no - or rather in the spaces between the words. Between the lines? No, it's worse than that. Can't you read? I wrote: the s p a c e s. Even the spaces, very small spaces, between letters, even. Yes, e v e n. You see? What's wrong with you? Are you sick in the head?
Why am I taking it out on you? I apologize. You don't deserve this. And now I have devil faces in the curtains, caused by the sunshine. I deserve this? No, I don't. Life isn’t fair. We're all suffering, aren't we? I certainly hope so. I don't want to be the only one.
