Blues is putting it mildly. The Blahs, The Blues, the impeding sense of dooms, the assessment of oneself as an uniquely utterly flawed worthless failures, the Major Depressive Episodes, the I completely sucks.
Here's the view off Joe's 11th floor deck at 1AM. Some enterprising artistic type shoveled that skull into the soccer field adjacent to his apartment building just so I could have the perfect 26th of December shot and start the day out on the appropriate note.
oh.
sorry.
Turns out I'll find out tomorrow morning that black/hell/skull/terror/hospital/death/don't get out of bed/eat until you are nauseous Monday was just the day after an ever so slightly less than perfect Christmas -- the Perfect Christmas all we adult Christian children of astoundingly shitty parents still invest our psyches in, unbeknownst to conscious us.
Here's to Christmas. fa la de dah.
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