Last night I was gonna write about a song of the week, something I would have picked randomly because my brain hasn’t been singing so much since the news about Ryan Adams being an abusive dirtbag. It was probably gonna be Jeremy Messersmith’s “It’s Only Dancing,” because I listened to him a lot yesterday while I caught up on work I ignored during the week in a depressive funk. But, I’ve written extensively about “It’s Only Dancing” before and I don’t know if I really have much more to say.
And the real reason I didn’t write anything is because my neck hurts for a very stupid reason. It’s hurts because on Saturday I downloaded a game called Wordscapes and proceeded to do absolutely nothing besides sit around and play it while listening to Persons Unknown by Susie Steiner. I also made a ham & bean soup. It was, like the book, okay but nothing to rave about.
I got a case of the Februaries people. Bad.
This is my least favorite month of the year, followed by August (the February of summer). Because I loathe February, I usually try to do things, read things, make things that make me feel good. But goddamn if February isn’t kicking my ass this year. I blame it on the fact that it snows nearly every other day now, and it’s always cold. Also, Ruby won’t start. And I can’t get my mail out of the mailbox and there are three paychecks in there. And I’ve only talked to BFK once this month due to unfortunate circumstances I am not at liberty to reveal (hers, not mine. I reveal all my circumstances.). And I haven’t left the house for seven hours and fifteen days, which is a lot even for an angry hermit like me.
There was one more thing I was gonna complain about, but fucking February made me forget it.