A weekend so bad that Monday looks good. A reminder to stop asking questions I know the answers to already. I really did know, but I wanted to pretend that I didn't.
Alright then. Move along now. Nothing to see here. Plenty of fish in the sea. I feel like I've been bludgeoned with a dead mackerel and tossed in the chum bucket. Lots of fish.
I'll look at old photos while that empty room spends my money. I'll play internet Scrabble with a G.I. in Germany- he lost his hearing in a RPG attack in Kabul. The guy's still got a sense of humour though, cheers me up a bit. Things could be worse. His buddy used to play guitar until his arm got blown off. That doesn't cheer me up.
He says his girlfriend is coming to visit him-she's been learning sign language. I tell him my girlfriend doesn't understand me. She doesn't understand why I have a problem with the fact that she's married. At least she told me, so I know where I stand. I stand in the corner with a pointy hat on.
Later on, my guitar doesn't gently weep. It vomits black blood. I can't play it when it does that. I can't seem to do anything anymore. Fuck.
Tomorrow will be better. It has to be.