Sunday has come around again. Ugh! I don't like Sundays. The last two have been rough. (See previous Sunday posts.) But I ain't falling into that well of self-pitying post-drink loneliness horrors today. Gonna keep my mind straight, and my eyes forward. Try not to throw all the toys out of my pram again. If I have a sudden blood clot and drop dead today I want it to be with a great song on the stereo, loads of light streaming in through my windows, the carpets smelling of Shake 'N' Vac, a sense of satisfaction in my heart.
Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today, as Jimmy Dean is supposed to have said.
5 comments:
Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today, as Jimmy Dean is supposed to have said.
Easily said for someone who's choice wasn't between hoovering or a wank.
I was going to suggest you call me for a chat this weekend. It would either have the effect of making you feel less alone or more superior but alas I have 'one of me 'eads' today: A migraine the size of Cornwall, which is considerably better than the frequent Texas sized ones but still a sod.
Oh what laughs we'd have swapping tragic stories and plans of suicide. Perhaps another time eh?
Seriously of course if you really feel shut off or closed in anytime and want to talk - email me. Humour is one of my ways of getting through things as I'm sure you've noted by now, but it doesn't negate my sincerity.
DE, I will take you up on the offer one of these days, as I like nothing better than talking to other people who have got it as bad as I have.
In the meantime, your first comment wins the award for the funniest comment I've had in three years of doing the various volumes of Suffolk Punch. Seriously. I lost half of my sandwich when I read it.
I just hope 'Losing half of ones sandwhich' isn't an obscure northern euphemism for one of those choices!
You have an admirably strange mind, Mr. Empire.
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