It’s embarrassing. I’m a grown man, with a job, house, wife, and kids. Yet, for whatever reason, my mood depends so much on the weather. I’m furious and dying. It’s May and it’s gray and raining and everything is soaked. My skin is wrinkled and my heart wails in my soggy chest, writhing in my sunken flesh, gasping, decaying in some bog. I can’t take it. I want those big bright sunny days. I want to swim and run and walk and melt. Baste me in bronze. Dye my hair blonde. Instead I’m a malodorous ghoul. I can’t take it.
My head hurts. I’ve been drinking too much caffeine. What’s the point of eating well and exercising? What’s the point of falling in love? What’s the point of anything?
Maybe it will change some tomorrow. Maybe the sun pokes it’s big stupid head out, says lol, and runs back behind the clouds like someone walked in on it in the shower. Hopefully I can stamp around in the mud and listen to the water and read modernist literature. Because when Monday comes, it’s more of the same dull drab gray.
Anyways, here’s your SNOT for the night to discuss whatever: the Rockets folding like a two ton couch, tomorrow’s game sevens, Diablo 2 character builds, just how much you love your mother, globalism, and whatever the hell else. Just remember the standard commenting rules apply.