Of squeaking and sicking

I'm at home having a massive sick, and next week we're gone Thursday and Friday on vacation. Dear oh dear. And you know what, good. On Wednesday, not only do we have the pleasure of meeting our normal deadline, but also a meeting at which I shall be obliged to be confrontational; better the stress of confrontation, I'm operating on the assumption, than difficulty in sleeping because I'm quietly letting myself get fucked up the ass by people who aren't even thinking of giving me a reach-around. Part of my problem at the moment is that the person they're threatening to replace my old boss with is the same age as I am. More experienced, yes, but I'm feeling a whole new emotion at the moment in terms of not wanting to have a boss who's my age. Oh well. I should just get over that. I think it's more difficult for some colleagues at the office, who are both older than the threatened new boss, and vastly more experienced.

Oh boo. This massive sick is making me feel bad. My head hurts, my lungs hurt, it looks like I've got two black eyes, and I am absolutely full of doubts about everything that I can't ingest and digest. Which, this morning, is turning out to be everything except dried bread soaked in cafe latte. I want to hippy out now. Not nine fucking months from now, now. What if I fucking die? What if I get fucking cancer when I'm fucking forty and have to think, fuck, I squandered years of my life not being a hippy? That's the sort of mood I'm in.

Well, life isn't all bad. The F-word introduced me to Last.fm. I'd heard of it before but thought it was just crap. It turns out I like it. Although the endless Mark Lanegan on the Nick Cave Radio is starting to piss me off, but not quite enough to ban it. It's just the repetition that gets to me. It also turns out I don't like PJ Harvey's new album at all. I resent her singing in that little squeaky pitchless voice when I know she's capable of yelling 'I can't believe that the axis turns on suffering while my head burns' in key and loud. If I want squeaky and pitchless I'll take the chick from the Arcade Fire, thank you very much.