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Happy days.  Happy times.

How does one know when one is having a nervous breakdown?  A friend told me today that if I was having one, I wouldn't know about it.  In other words my awareness somehow dictates sanity.  But I don't buy that one.   I think one can unravel quietly, in a corner somewhere.  Without anyone taking much notice.  But why must blogs always be so depressing?  Usually because it's the only place we feel able to concentrate selfishly on ourselves, I guess... er...

Nice weather we're having.

Son House.  Goddamn.  Been watching this American Folk Blues festival DVD and damn if Son House isn't just the most amazing thing in the world, ever.  I know that's a compelling and mature description, but proper words fail me in the presence of images of him singing Death Letter Blues.  They really do.

I got a letter this morning, how do you reckon it read?
"Oh, hurry, hurry, gal, you love is dead"

The lyrics on this version seem to vary pretty madly from any other I've heard.  And it's just truly humbling to see him sitting on a bench in a white room... a church it seems, with a guitar, singing out, pure and simple. 

Been working like a busy beaver this week, until 11pm tonight, hence I'm up still at fucking five in the morning trying to wind down.  Okay I've not been winding down at all, I've been watching America's Next Top Model and Desperate Housewives.  Two of my guiltiest pleasures.  ANTM is such good entertainment - nothing beats watching a bunch of neurotic anorexic bitches tearing each other apart in a competition to see who can be most shallow and beautiful.  The finale is next week, I'm beside myself.
And DH, well, it's just got enough of the right things to keep me hooked... mainly an addictive and mysterious storyline, but it's just silly and just funny and just poignant enough in the right places too.

After the guilty telly fest I did some emails and ticked one film off my reviews list and sent the copy in.  I semi-regularly review porn for a friend's website and sometimes it can be a total blast, and sometimes just a dire chore. Hard to describe the site really, kind of "thinking man's wank zone"?  Hahaha. If the porn is ridiculous enough it's a blast and easy to write entertaining about it.  If it's just run of the mill fake titted crunchy blondes getting doubly penetrated, it's just kind of sad and monotonous.   It's quite interesting to see what actually turns me on though.  My own little research project.

Ah hell.  I really have to get some sleep.  Will try to be more diligent and depressing soon, honest.