Trashed but sobering up
Thanks for all the birthday wishes, you guys are sound. I'm slightly dead for the count right now, so do please accept my apologies for typos, misspellings, grammatical errors and disjointed thinking.
Today was good, even though I turned 39. I still can't believe I'm saying that I'm THIRTY-NINE FUCKING YEARS OLD. I'm ancient even by my own metric of over-the-hill: I think contemporary music sucks, the youth today are totally beyond remedy and only deserve to be horse-whipped in the market square on Saturday mornings, and that technology is nothing but a source of frustration and regression. It is clear that it is high-time that I retire to my luxurious retreat in the Pyrénées and avoid any further contaminating contact with today's society, for this society is PULLING ME DOWN.
[Excellent plan, minus the whole not having a luxurious mountain retreat overlooking a lake in south-western France thing and the glaring absence of independent wealth and abundant cash stores.]
Leaving aside these two minor snags, today was otherwise of the good: I bought myself a dress for 70% off that I had been hankering after for a while, consumed an unholy amount of double espressos, drank a litre of red wine, went to see Inception, went out to dinner for tapas and ate an immoderate amount of food, drank another litre of wine, went to another place for dessert where I ate a simply gorgeous slice of wheat-free chocolate cake with, not just freshly whipped cream, but also a couple of scoops of super rich vanilla ice cream, drank two Irish coffees and then rounded off the evening with a glass of Midleton Very Rare. Somehow, someway, I managed not only to retrieve my gym gear but also to find my way back home on the correct train, even despite my otherwise compromised physiological state.
GO TEAM INEBRIATED ME
Otherwise, in slightly meta-commentary, I'm firmly on the side of the Artist Formerly Known as Prince Who Turned Himself Into a Symbol. The internet is dead. It's not that I don't spend time on the internet; I do. I visit the same dozen websites every day and read LJ during the day, but I've just lost the taste for it. Disillusioned and disenchanted might be the best way to describe it. There are a number of LJers whom I'd love to meet, but realistically, it simply ain't gonna happen. And once apperception pulled up stakes a couple of months back, I felt like that little kid at the end of Shane yelling, "Shane, Shane, come back!' Dunno what the point of social networking is for other than to provide a venue to try to induce envy and social anxiety.
Blah.
My mother wrote to me today. I herewith reproduce the email (with all names redacted) because if you didn't know it was from a woman in her mid-sixties, you could almost think it was a teenager who wrote it.
Hi Sweetie -
HAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY1
We're on our way to NYC with B, museums, Time Square, etc. B has been here visiting with M and K.
How are you, G, and T? Is T still in France?
Will talk to you later. And, of course, have a fun day.
Love,
Mom
Today was good, even though I turned 39. I still can't believe I'm saying that I'm THIRTY-NINE FUCKING YEARS OLD. I'm ancient even by my own metric of over-the-hill: I think contemporary music sucks, the youth today are totally beyond remedy and only deserve to be horse-whipped in the market square on Saturday mornings, and that technology is nothing but a source of frustration and regression. It is clear that it is high-time that I retire to my luxurious retreat in the Pyrénées and avoid any further contaminating contact with today's society, for this society is PULLING ME DOWN.
[Excellent plan, minus the whole not having a luxurious mountain retreat overlooking a lake in south-western France thing and the glaring absence of independent wealth and abundant cash stores.]
Leaving aside these two minor snags, today was otherwise of the good: I bought myself a dress for 70% off that I had been hankering after for a while, consumed an unholy amount of double espressos, drank a litre of red wine, went to see Inception, went out to dinner for tapas and ate an immoderate amount of food, drank another litre of wine, went to another place for dessert where I ate a simply gorgeous slice of wheat-free chocolate cake with, not just freshly whipped cream, but also a couple of scoops of super rich vanilla ice cream, drank two Irish coffees and then rounded off the evening with a glass of Midleton Very Rare. Somehow, someway, I managed not only to retrieve my gym gear but also to find my way back home on the correct train, even despite my otherwise compromised physiological state.
GO TEAM INEBRIATED ME
Otherwise, in slightly meta-commentary, I'm firmly on the side of the Artist Formerly Known as Prince Who Turned Himself Into a Symbol. The internet is dead. It's not that I don't spend time on the internet; I do. I visit the same dozen websites every day and read LJ during the day, but I've just lost the taste for it. Disillusioned and disenchanted might be the best way to describe it. There are a number of LJers whom I'd love to meet, but realistically, it simply ain't gonna happen. And once apperception pulled up stakes a couple of months back, I felt like that little kid at the end of Shane yelling, "Shane, Shane, come back!' Dunno what the point of social networking is for other than to provide a venue to try to induce envy and social anxiety.
Blah.
My mother wrote to me today. I herewith reproduce the email (with all names redacted) because if you didn't know it was from a woman in her mid-sixties, you could almost think it was a teenager who wrote it.
Hi Sweetie -
HAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY1
We're on our way to NYC with B, museums, Time Square, etc. B has been here visiting with M and K.
How are you, G, and T? Is T still in France?
Will talk to you later. And, of course, have a fun day.
Love,
Mom