A KIND OF POST-FACTO THING
7.57AM: Wake. Remember that clock is 20 minutes fast. Subtract 20 from 57. Go back to sleep.
8.15 (after subtraction): Wake up in panic--late again.
8.45: Make it to the bus stop only to have very full buses keep driving by. This being Dublin, it will be raining and people will be giving me funny looks because I am wearing sunglasses. All of this looks a lot better through Gucci sunglasses...
9.15-9.45: Arrive at work looking like shit again. No makeup. "Shh I am suffering. You bastards are lucky I am here." Or feeling kinda disappointed and angry at world for having had to see 'him' at the bus stop and then remember his soon to be world-famous, beautiful girlfriend.
10.00: Start to feel slightly better as have consumed at least one cup of instant coffee. Somewhere after this: Start to work, talk about alcohol all day and still not understand the reason why I shouldn't drink.
1.00PM: Lunch, if stomach has normalised, otherwise, browse net and wonder why more people don't mail me.
2.00-5.00: Hope and pray that Edel will phone with somewhere interesting to go this evening. When she calls, bemoan the fact that she has a great job writing for a Sunday paper through which she has to go to launch parties with famous people. The elite group she will be joining when her band goes worldwide with her 2hand chimprat stickers on her guitars.
5.30: Get home shower and change again to go somewhere, anywhere.
7.30: Arrive at party. Drink free booze, pass on food--a girl can't keep her figure if she indulges in that sort of thing. From now on: Meet new people, resolve to give up current job and find one you actually want. Rub shoulders and backs with semi-famous Irish celebrities and make new friends with others who are along for the ride. Possibly bump into someone who saw you at the opening of some other envelope making a complete fool of yourself.
SOMETIME very early in the morning: Crawl home to bed alone, again, cursing yourself for getting totally wasted on a weeknight and then thinking fuck who cares, other things, like only young once. Start dreading tomorrow even though it is already to-day but don't think about it too hard cos otherwise you'll realize once and for all that your life sucks eggs. Wonder will it get better. . . Dream about holiday in a couple of weeks to Chicago--get drunk all day everyday, instead of just in the evenings. Dream about how things will be better when one starts to write again but maybe one won't...
ALL DAY: Try not to smoke any cigarettes. Fail miserably.