Low Bar Getting Lower

Let's just call this a good week to have painkillers sitting around the house.

The (London) Suede song came into my head this evening, for no reason. I haven't listened to it in years, maybe not even since college or grad school.

First 10 days of the year: life kicking me in the ribs while I'm already down. All right, then, life. Keep kicking. Kick hard. Because when you stop, when I get back up and the bruises start to turn green, it'll just mean that I get to kick you back five times harder. Until you bleed.

Not being able to eat solid foods has turned me practically into a vegetarian for the week. (Besides the chicken soup, that is.) I don't like it. I'm not craving a big hearty steak (yet), but I'm blaming my current mood on the fact that meat just doesn't taste right when it's processed to the point where you don't even have to chew it.

I do, however, still like the fact that I get to eat a shit ton of ice cream.