Hotels and Mules

Mother of Balls! (Not my expression).

One thing the Travelodge people can't do is ensure you don't feel like you're heading towards the bottom in the misery barrel. Making do with small cartons of milk and the rattling of trains every seven minutes only reinforces the condition, technically known as 'pissed off', in the original Latin. At the moment I feel worse than bottom of the barrel. Actually I feel like the barrel was built on top of me.

The hotel itself isn't bad. It's just what it isn't that's the depressing part. But there's no time for misery so the deflector shield is on. It will keep the demons away for the most part. I can keep my shit together that long at least.

But the sooner the house share is sorted the better. A trip to meet potential housemates tomorrow with charm on full blast will hopefully do the trick, and a moving date sorted would help. Until then, work. Work. Bury yourself in work.

Talking of work, I have an interview to do later with Tony Holden, author of Big Deal and general nice bloke. Chat, booze, diet coke, food and smoking. Some would say the very meaning of living life as a man.

So yeah. Hmm. The bright side is i'm seeing the only person who cheers me up tonight. The tricky bit will not be letting on about all the grief. She'll want to know and want to make me feel better but I don't want to be anything but chipper around her. Chipper. Good word.

Well there will always be days like these. My article was up today, a review of the World Poker Tour season four. I don't like the article so forget about finding the link here. I suppose I've been distracted recently but this one was tricky, and I never felt like I had it by the balls. Instead, it's average. I hate average. The one thing you can't afford to be in this business is average, yet here I am, riding averageness like a mule.