Hello darkness, my old friend

Lately I’ve been making myself sit down at some stage during the week and actually put some thought into these things instead of leaving them until the last minute, but the dodgy last minute ones that I think are complete balls seem to be the ones that you people like (ahaha you like balls), so I’m trying not to feel too bad about scrapping the depressing piece of shite I wrote yesterday while I was in a bit of a mood. I knew it was a particularly bad one because I had Billy Joel’s Vienna playing on repeat for about two hours. Even though it was written about ten years before I was born, I’m pretty sure THISSONGISABOUTME, and it’s nice to know that Billy cares (that’s ‘Mr Joel’ to you. You don’t know him like I know him). Then instead of finishing my last assignment for the year, I found a website where you can play everybody’s favourite MS-DOS game, Commander Keen. So I did that for three hours. It made my eyes hurt. I kept dying on the ice level. Bloody ice level.

That was when I tried to write something, and all that came out was me bitching about sleep deprivation and just general not-being-good-at-life type stuff. The good news is that today, I feel better. After work I went to Borders and found they were chucking out all their CDs for $5. For the non-Aussie people, in your currency that’s the equivalent of, like, for free. Unless you’re from New Zealand. Then it’s more like $6,000. They didn’t have a lot left, but I did find two copies of an album by a friend of mine which I kindly moved to the front of the stack (you’re welcome) then proceeded to the checkout with The Essential Simon and Garfunkel (get the blog title? Geddit? Shut up, it's genius (There’s been a lot of brackets today, eh?)) and Doris Day’s Greatest Hits. The trendy hipster dude behind the counter looked at my selections, then gave me this look --> O_o which only added fuel to the fire of my anti hipsters-who-work-in-shops-that-I-go-to campaign. I started it last year when I paid for some DVDs with a credit card, and after looking at my signature, the guy looked back up at me and said ‘You know it’s supposed to be something people can’t copy, right?’ Filthy hipster scum.

So now I’m sitting here with a Simon and Garfunkel CD in front of me, staring at the cover, trying to figure out who was supposed to be the good looking one. I reckon Garfunkel, if you got him a hat.