Sunday, 30 September 2018

Day 155: Bombling

Jesus F Christ on a kayak, am I tired? I am tired. That was rhetorical. I am really tired. I have been working for 11 straight days now, long bar shifts and days building trade displays with Steve. I’m working with Steve again tomorrow, and then I’m working a close on the bar on Monday, and then after that I finally have a goddamned day off. Except I’ll be doing this blog of course, which I have to do every day.

Want to. The blog I want to do every day. I don’t have to. I chose this. It’s good. It’s all good. I signed up to help Steve. I literally signed a contract to work in the bar. And I guess I sign something of a tacit agreement every day to stay alive by… well… staying alive.

I could just die. We can always do that. But every day that we don’t is another day of saying, you know, I choose this. Whatever this is, I choose it over nothing at all, which is the only serious choice I ever get. Well, that and the… I dunno. I was going to make a joke about some meaningless decision and pretend it was important. Gareth Gates vs Will Young. I dunno. Just invent a joke that you enjoy and tell it to yourself there. That’ll do.

I can’t even… I don’t even… What is… what? I can’t see straight. The monitor is bombling around in front of my face.

Bugger this for a game of five-a-side hopscotch, I’m off to bed. Seven hours before I need to be up to get ready for work with Steve.

Waaah waaah waaah. I chose this. But I’m still going to cry about it. Waaah.

1 comment:

  1. I told myself a joke but it wasn't very funny. Baah!