I am going through some difficult stuff at the moment. The man who told me he loved me (and who I believed) fecked off for no reason and then just over three weeks later (last Wednesday) sent me a text asking me how the weather here was. Huh? I'm confused. Although I have to admit that after a few days of really not knowing what to do, on Friday evening I txted back: sunny with intermittent showers. Haven't a reply yet surprisingly. Someone sent me a link to a song by a German band which I have been listening too and finding quite amusing (literal translation of the title is "men are pigs" - I know that's not true of all men but it's a catchy tune!).
I'm also obviously dealing with my debt. And for the past week I've had a cold which finally settled on my chest yesterday evening which means that today I've had very little voice. Just what I needed just before starting a week of intensive rehearsals!
But the final straw may have just come when I saw a link to an analyse your writing style website. Because apparently
Oh dear. Infinite Jest is one of those books we read for book club but that I just never managed to finish. I've held on to it intending to go back to it one day but I'm very sorry, no matter how much of a literary genius he's supposed to be, I found Infinite Jest at any rate, well, pretty crap to be honest. It's a good thing I have always considered this blog to really just be my diary and that I don't have any aspirations to become a writer, that's all I can say! (Given my predilection for using brackets and exclamation marks I think it was already obvious that I'm not all that interested in 'serious' writing!!!) No, wait, that calls for a smiley face too :-)
I may need to obsessively start trying out that analysis with all previous blog entries, and not just the last one I had made. Surely one of them must come up with something better than DFW!
Edited to add: I've tried it with the rest of the blog posts which appear on this page at the moment, got two writers I've never heard of (Raymond Chandler and Vladimir Nabokov) followed by James Joyce (another one I've never managed to finish a book from) and then another DFW. Oh well, at least I'm laughing. If I weren't I suspect I'd be crying!
Edited again to add: okay, I've googled and Nabokov wrote Lolita, which I've not only heard of, I've read.