Today was a lovely sunny day, and somehow the sun transforms London into the only place in the world I want to be. Usually. It being gorgeously sunny does not help me, in my current mood. It just isn't working, a bit like when you're sad or angry, having Kylie Minogue on the radio in the background - it kind of trivialises your pain. It's almost as if the sun was shining deliberately to separate me from all the other happy people frolicking in the parks, with their shades and shorts and flip-flops and Kylie Minogue-playing ipods. While I'm in my little shop dressed in black jeans and eyeliner, playing Tom Waits and cursing my damn hayfever, and glaring challengingly at the front door, daring it to bring in another stick thin Burberry-clad ladies-who-lunch moron, and see if I care, see if I'll even bother raising my eyes to welcome them. But the door rings it's little bell, and every dingaling sounds like quiet laughter, because the door knows, it's not who's coming through the door that I'm angry at, it's who's not coming. Damn smug know-it-all door, laughing at me.
Okay, I'm sounding pretty bitter and crazy in a Bernard Black kind of way, but honestly I'm not. I'm sad, and lonely. But pissed off is easier, so I'll stick with that for the moment. Although that may be because I'm still not getting any sleep so am getting egdy. Sleep deprivation does not go well with heartbreak (yet somehow, hand in hand.) Anyway, I can feel this entry becoming intensely emo and self-deprecating so I'll sign off. Time to watch some Gilmore Girls on the couch and play my new favourite betting game - What Will Finally Drag Wednesday's Child Up Off Her Arse? My money's on the computer running out of battery. But my cigarette supply is running low, so it could be that. I'll keep you updated. Exciting times.
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