I Come With A Man Downunder: Night of the Living Fecalith

I come with a man downunder. This is what I realised on New Year's Eve, in my alcohol fuelled haze. AW agrees. Regardless, I have started thinking about remaining single for the rest of my life. I had a horrible thought today: what if life is just boring? What if there is no more excitement. All the things I have wanted, and wanted to do, what if they are actually boring and meaningless? ZP and I talked about relationships and children today, and she was saying that having children is exciting. It made me feel horrible and selfish, but I don't want to live vicariously through 'the children'. I know that isn't all there is to it, but I am feeling crabby and despondant today.

I thought perhaps I would be sensible on New Year's Eve and not drink, and drive home. Instead I drank all night and was sitting outside talking shit at 6am. By christ I am good at drinking. The effect of drinking all night is that I start to think that everything is boring, and that life is an unendingly unexciting jet of rough and watery shit. Not even painful shit, just boring shit. God help me, I think I am prematurely old and miserable.

I have learnt an exciting new word: fecalith. Fucking FECALITH. When a piece of shit gets stuck in a pocket and turns to stone.

Perhaps time to stop and TAKE STOCK of things. Which things?