. . .

You

I have decided something. I have decided that I am a worthless lowlife fit only to lick the ground beneath your feet. Two important things have assisted me in reaching this conclusion. a) It's still another 3 hours and some minutes before I can legitimately escape this wretched hellhole, and b) I've been drinking new Nosteemo, the great drink with the wonderful taste of conformity and defeat. Nosteemo! Comes in can and iv drip.

It's been a while. My muse is denied and despairing. Must retake muse worship. Need to find good honey. Make that altar. Do the next thing.

And here I thought the phrase soulsucking void of a job was just figurative. Now I realize that it's all part of the general malaise that overlies this entire building. They have the soulcollectors mounted at unpredictable intervals that the Dark Masters may feed. All hail to our Dark Masters.

I really am depressed. Depressed in that camoflaged sort of way, when you tell yourself, no, I'm not depressed, I'm just apathetic way. My friends. I realized that my friends are the people who drive me crazy. Each and every one of them drives me up the wall in some way. Is this a common trait of humanity? Do I just like the people who get to me somehow? Is it a low selfesteem issue? Is there anyone in the world who wouldn't get to me in some way?

Ech. It doesn't help that I really have nothing to do just now. I've tried to waste as much time as possible here at work, but short of reading the entirety of Doonesbury from the beginning, I'm not interested any more in Using The Web for fun and profit. I made the mistake of finishing the quotes too quickly, so I can't do any more of that until the month is over, and by then I'll have other things on my mind. And email has been avoiding me recently.

So I'll spread my depressive thoughts in your direction, and you get to read them. Yay. Woo hoo. Go Jane go.

I think I'll try not to think about it.

I think I'll go read Doonesbury.