Does it ever get easier? I'm beginning to fear it doesn't.
Yet another year rolls towards conclusion, yet another year in which, other than writing a few songs I have achieved nothing of any great import. It makes me wonder quite what the point of it all is. I used to be a thoroughbred panglossian (cheers dude, you know who you are) but now I seem to have become a jaded old fuck, without any of the benefits that should accompany such a grandiose title.
Life seems to be made up soley of struggling to pay endless bills. I remember, in odd moments of lucidity, times when I had fun. These now seem to be fewer and much, much further between.
Perhaps all will become clear... Then again I won't hold my breath.
Even Cat seems slothful and moribund these days, and she's probably a more accurate reflection of my state of mind than anything else.
Hey ho. Onwards and upwards.
I will write another song this year if I have to beat myself over the head with a mallet.
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