Only Round 4 of Season 11, but the motivation has failed. I imagine myself as some robot or AI, putting in the practice laps, just to weed out the dabblers and dilettantes. There must be no duty nor deity. Sanction and senescence seems to be the same. (They're trying to kill me, you know!) My secret habits undermine their sorry existence.
Bollocks. So, I try to find the focus that eludes me intermittently. And like the snake that eats its own tail, I offer my vanity for any chance to win. Now you see the shame that burns all who persevere. Your clever witty answer to this blight solves nothing.
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