Get dirty. Get fucking filthy. Get poor. Get off your ass. Get desperate. Get dangerous. Get vilified. Get vile. Get romantic. Get fucked. Get moving. Get productive. Get pro-active. Get started. Get your own life. Get doing something. Anything. Because before you know it, you’re forty with kids, a mortgage, and responsibilities that cause your fun to come second. So, before cancer, before children, before 50 hour work weeks, before back and knee problems, before school loans, before you lose your sense of humour… Fight. Fight and fuck and run and smile. Smile because the older you get, the less you will. So yes, ‘quit being such a goddamn pussy’, because bitching and whining and worry never made anything better.
‘Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense’. (Ralph Waldo Emerson)
‘A man reserves his true and deepest love not for the species of woman whose company he finds himself electrified and enkindled, but for that one in whose company he may feel tenderly drowsy’. (George Jean Nathan)
This is another hangover blog. I have nothing to say, for fear I’ll incriminate someone. And by ‘someone’, I mean myself, of course. I liked last night. The bits I remember. I like to think I’m better off remembering only what I remember at this point. Additional information would probably just upset me. As is usually the case. For once in my life, I am perfectly happy being oblivious. And I really hope no one changes that state of being.
Physically, I feel like death. Every muscle in my body is just going, ‘Emma… Why?’ And I cannot answer. Because I don’t know. Why do we do this to ourselves? Forever saying ‘I’m never drinking again’. Always a lie. I don’t know. Self-deception is a lovely thing at times.
I hope I’m not deceiving myself vis-a-vis that other thing though. Probably just a fluke. Speaking of flukes and things that just, y’know, happen… I sincerely hope that other thing doesn’t get found out and land me in a sticky situation. Drunkenness is a poor excuse but that’s what I’ll stand by. That’s what I’ll absolutely swear by. It sounds like I’m lying, doesn’t it? That it wasn’t drunkenness at all. Well, it was. And it was oh-so-random. Love it. Love the hilarity factor.
Last night really was hilarious. Random encounters. This morning. In the bed. Oh, LOL. I really do love my life at times. It’s all so… funny. Even all those stupid situations. In fact, especially all those stupid situations. In retrospect. Thinking about some things is making me feel a bit blushy and a bit stupid and pathetic and ashamed of myself, etc., but shur look! It’s a new day etc., etc. It’s not not as if I can change anything now so there’s no sense in worrying about it.
I think that’s all for now. I fear I’ve said too much already and will only end up indulging you even further into the dark recesses of my life if I continue this waffle much longer. And we can’t have that.
Off to make tea, perhaps, do a bit of tidying. Dinner, homework (if I feel so inclined), DVD, bed. And by ‘bed’ I mean ‘dead’. Oh, kill me now. My aching head.