In praise of shallowness

I really am quite easily pleased. I used to think I wasn't (when I was 16 and considered myself misunderstood and complex) but I am, blatantly. It's a rare bad mood that'll survive the simplest of pleasures - like a nice meal, or sex, or a new CD.
Take last week and this week - pretty much the same situation: hungover again, still not sleeping particularly well, spent too much last night, only difference is that I'm pretty sure the girl's actively gone off me as opposed to not having any time to see me and we're over. I should feel the same or worse, but I've had a pie, I'm going to get the Sopranos on DVD, I'm going out to get drunk with my housemate tonight and I'm fine. Thank God for shallowness and superficiality: they're my saving graces. Have a nice weekend all.

A Pom whinges

It's drizzling, I'm hungover and ruing the $80 I had to spend on a taxi last night having fallen asleep on the wrong train and woken up at 3am on the wrong side of Melbourne. For some reason that feels like bizarrely delayed jet lag I wake regardless of alcohol or sleeping pills every weekday at 4am and can't get back to sleep. My head then feels like it's on a stick and my body like I'm at the bottom of the sea. The girl's too busy to see me. The weeks seem to be flashing by without much to show for them. The rent's going up.

Moan, sulk and, indeed, whinge.

Life doesn't actually suck, I'm just feeling sorry for myself for a bit. It'll pass. Actually, there's a thought that always cheers me up: lunch. Simple pleasures are the best. I'm off. Take care