refined tastes

Sorry for the irregular posting. I've been in a bit of a slump. Not the suicidal ideation kind of slump; just the "holy shit, have I permanently fucked up my life" kind of slump. You know, the "lock yourself in a bathroom stall at work and sob desperately" kind of slump, the "burst into tears on the phone with your mom when she calls you at the office (fortunately after all co-workers have left for home)" kind of slump.

On the outside, I'm keeping my shit together; and you know, for the most part, I really am a pretty, um, happy person. But you know, sometimes I look at what's going on, what I've been doing, my lack of direction, purpose and meaning, and everything seems like it's built on this rickety scaffolding of bullshit. And oh yeah, there's still war, cruelty, stupidity and global warming.

On another note, I had a glass of wine last night with an old friend CS, who was visiting from overseas. He always complains that he's never mentioned on my blog, because he, like most people I guess, really loves to read about himself. Anyway, we were sitting around bantering, four of us, and eventually a new bottle was opened and poured.

CS: "This one -- this one is [grimaces with disgust and contempt like no one else can]."
PW: [certainly disappointed] "Well, it's lighter than the others."
CS: "It's not lighter. It tastes like a cat, smoking a cigarette, pissing itself."

(Which I privately categorized as "Idea #3 for a new tattoo".)