Ways to self medicate a bout of blues:
Topic: Hurtling to Obscurity
Alcohol - not that effective, though uses up time; definitely a depressant.
Seeing friends - very effective, especially if you talk to them about it, rather than pretending you're a chipper little squirrel.
Asking people out - not very effective. Starts off fear on top of the dour determination that everything will go wrong.
Videos - the entire series of Wonderfalls is an appropriate replacement for BB, is transparently stupid and meaningless enough not to worry if any get skipped (not my taste, sorry, Rev and Billy), but ends up losing you sleep. So, no, a depressant.
Concerts - Gorecki's symphony of Sorrowful Songs - not the best choice in the world. But the London Sinfonietta surprised me by first playing my current favourite piece of music - Arvo Part's Tabula Rasa.
Museums - photographing dead animals, skeletons and stuffed animals takes your mind off things while doing so, but is a bit of a bummer when you later look at what's in your pictures folder. Going roung central London taking pics of statues and Chinatown was better.
Admitting what's really bugging you - took me a while, but I'm stressed out about the coming summer. Last summer was the shittest summer of my life (which was why I was so incredulous when I got shit from everyone I know that I appeared to be living life to the full, according to the blog), and I just couldn't bear to experience anything that dull ever again. It would *end* me. Yet I haven't enough money to leave SE26. Pah. But knowledge is power, and now I know where the strop is coming from.
Checking the calendar - one thing I've noticed is that single people, while paying forty two times the price in any outbranch of the tourism industry - we sure do filling up the calendar well. It's getting hard to shoehorn anything in. Hopefully, this isn't a temporary blip.
Having a sickie - I'm utterly sleep deprived, everything in my body aches for some weird reason, and I'm turning into a clumsy, stupid oaf who mooches. I patently need to recharge. There's nothing to do at work right now anyway, certainly nothing that takes precedence over my health. Result.
Cuddling cats - they've decided to wage a war, a campaign, a battle to the death, to gain rights of access and control over my pillow. I wake up every morning with a cat's sphincter in my face, and a pillow full of horrible wiry black hairs and cat dander. This is the battle to end all battles. There will be no cuddles or snuggles or schnuffly shakes. There will only be scratches, arguments, and with holding of anything but dirty looks till it's over. Downer.
Reading blogs - it's ages since I properly went through bloglines, kinja, and the blogroll. There's some really truly beautiful writing out there, you know. If you're becoming bored of blogging, just start reading more. Inspiring.
Best Blo'te of the Day So Far: Muscle 68
"...bullshit, that was a great pour." She just laughed at me. Whatever, she was just jealous. "So we're going to another bar, it's ladies wrestling night." Well, you know me. Anything involving alcohol and girls wrestling and I'm there. So we finished the last of our beers and headed over. It was only a 30 second drive and...
...the hell not, I asked myself. Jager's always a fun choice, so I told her, "Sure, jager shots, let's go." She poured and we all took a shot together. Good times. It's a very bonding experience, drinking with someone. You don't ask people if they wanna go and grab a water, or go and grab a soda, but you can always ask someone if they wanna go and....
...off my chest." Kinda awkward, seeing as how her husband was right there. But who am I to argue? She laid on the bar, smashed her fakies together, and I sucked the Jager shot down. She stood up. "You missed some." And she then lowered her shirt more. So of course, I had to lick off the...
...had no idea where the girl in the luchador wrestling mask came from, but there she was, imitating oral sex on the other female bartender. Then she screamed. Seems the luchadora chick bit her thigh. Seeing a girl put ice down her pants is pretty funny, especially in a ghetto bar after drinking a shitload of...
...the dude's birthday, I had to buy him a drink. I also had to yell at his girlfriend to set me up with one of her sisters or hot aunts or something. I mean, if they looked anything like her, I'd be happy. So we both cheered ourselves, and we took a shot of Jager. "Happy Birthday my man." "Well thank you, it was really nice of...
...timate cheeseburger, sourdough jack, and 2 tacos, thanks." Me and B were going to eat like kings on our way home "Shit man, do you have any money?" He grabs his pockets. "You know, I don't think..."
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Updated: Wednesday, 30 June 2004 4:06 AM BST
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Updated: Wednesday, 30 June 2004 4:06 AM BST
Post Comment | View Comments (15) | Permalink | Share This Post