I have bloggers block, or something similar. I can think of a million things to write about but I just can’t bring myself to actually write any of them. Every time I start I get sidetracked onto my now dead cat. And I don’t want to write some stupid sappy post about how sad I am my kitty died, hell, I didn’t even like the cat that much. Irritating rapist fluff ball that it was. Obviously I have serious issues though because he’s on my mind constantly, in fact, I’m sure he’s actually standing behind me, right now, rattling a ball and chain and meowing a haunting song. So here is my post about my dead cat, whom I can’t stop thinking about. Though, perhaps the real problem is that, some idiot, namely my Mother, has insisted upon placing his picture as the desktop wallpaper. Since I spend an unhealthy amount of time here I’m unimpressed by his huge ginger presence glaring at me from the screen whenever I misguidedly minimise all my windows.
Nevertheless, here is my cat post. And since I’m posting about cats I figured I might as well post about all my cats. Whom I all feel varying levels of hatred towards, except one, who hates me as much as I hate her and through our mutual level of hatred we get along quite well...
Well, that's what I wrote last Friday. And now it is next Tuesday night and I am exhausted, fucking pissed off too and quite depressed. I'm supposed to go to a funeral tomorrow but instead I have to go look at an apartment to rent. I have an 80th birthday party to go to soon and my Opa is coming to visit too. Which is good because I was worried I wouldn't get to see him again before I left, which reminds me, I need to call my Dad and tell him I'm switching countries again. I'm not telling the rest of my family I'm leaving until I've already left, then I'm just going to mass email them.
I think I'll go to bed now because sleep is the only thing stopping me from screaming out loud, because the person holding my heart is crushing it and it's ripping me apart.
The only thing keeping me sane right now is the Theme from The Piano.
The Heart Asks Pleasure First.