“I am angry, I am ill and I am as ugly as sin. My irritability keeps me alive and kicking. I know the meaning of life, it doesn’t help me a bit.”
Magazine’s A Song from Under the Floorboards sums up my feelings this morning. Not just this morning actually.
Today kicked off with conversations about Robot Overlords invading (and the coffee machine being a sleeper agent); the existential problem of our constant self-denial of our inevitable, lonely deaths being much the same as being lied to about the lead platform for DLC for a soccer video game. It leads me to believe that I’m either living in a wonderland of hip badinage or I’m constantly involved in meaningless drivel, which I hasten to add is 99.9% of the time instigated by me.
My coffee went cold too quickly and I’m being forced to listen to anti-folk or whatever it’s called. As Howard Devoto points out, “My irritability keeps me alive and kicking. I know the meaning of life, it doesn’t help me a bit.”