Half-stumbling to bed, I spy the half-empty bottle of wine sitting on a shelf, not yet stale from dinner. Mind awash in Troublesome thoughts, reason and moderation escape me as my off-hand reflexively grasps for the neck of sweet escape. It’s a lot easier to swig straight from the bottle when no one is around.
A new, yet not-so-new friend told me that this blog has been getting a bit depressing lately.
Lately?
Huh?
Those who know me are ROFLTAO at the mo’.
Yeah; I just coined that. I’m embracing the IT Geek label which I’ve been tagged with by You-Know-Who. And his/her name is not Voldemort.
Now I’ll be up for hours, thinking about Trouble, and how I always willingly walk straight in to it, with open arms.
When will I learn?
—
And friends just can’t be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
-Paul Simon
—
Currently Playing: Ferry Corsten’s “Live At Inner City Amsterdam 11-12-99.” Periods go inside the quotation marks, right, Mrs. G?
Thanks to the God of Groundhogs for anthemic trance. Else, I wouldn’t know what I’d do at whatever the fuck hour it is, alone with my bottle of red.
