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Every Day is Like Monday 2004-07-25

It's funny (well, not ha-ha funny, but curiously funny) that some days are so much better than others ...

Some days I feel almost normal - like I'm my usual slightly optimistic, ready to attack the world-self.

I get up, have breakfast, have a cigarette on the porch, go to work, get home in the evening, do some emails, read, watch a movie, go to bed & don't really think about her until that moment when my head is on the pillow, I close my eyes and everything becomes very quiet.

And on other days she's a constant buzz in my head, and no matter what I do I can't focus on anything but how horrible I feel, how much I miss her.

It takes every ounce of will-power just to get out of bed in the morning; work is impossible and sleep won't come.

The weekends are the worst, I think.

Take this weekend, for instance.

With both of my roommates out of town or otherwise unavailable, and the apartment feeling like a giant dusty tomb, the only companions I've had these last couple of days have been a bottle of vodka and Slowdive's brilliant Souvlaki album.

But, then again, there is simple pleasure to be found in eschewing all human company, staying clear of the amphetamines, and otherwise drinking oneself silly while listening to music best suited for killing oneself.

At least it makes the days go by faster.