Miser for a Day

Let’s just recap how my day has gone so far.

In the 1h45 minutes that it has been Saturday, the following has happened.

  • Boris Johnson has been re-elected (I’m not a Londoner, but fuck, I hate that man.)
  • If I wish to book at the same hostel I was at last time, it’ll cost me 448 euros, which I don’t have.
  • I got my first rejection e-mail.
  • I bought Fifty Shades of Grey and I want to hurl it off a cliff (25 pages into the book).

This is all small pickles. I’m sure that I’ll get over it.

Boris Johnson is an utter titmonkey, that’s for sure. But… well, yeah. Let him be an utter titmonkey for a few more years, and we can only hope London sees its mistake.

I’ll get myself booked into that hostel any which way I can.

Sure, rejection stings like a fucking massive migraine, but it’s a sign that I shouldn’t give up. And I will find someone who will like this story.

I can confirm after 25 pages that I’m finding it extremely hard to concentrate on Fifty. I’ve lost track of the dialogue and monologue quite a few times already. But I’m willing to stick to it. At least until the sex kicks in.

(author’s note: I REALLY fucking hope it kicks in soon, because I swear….)

But all this doesn’t mean that I don’t feel like a massive clot as I’m writing this.

I don’t know. I’ve had a pretty shitty week in general. It’s hard to pick yourself up from that. I’m allowing myself to be a miser for the remainder of the night.

But there’s something I need to keep in mind. It’s a mantra I live by, and I don’t care who first coined it. I just know it was said by a woman who’s music was a big part of me growing up and who’s death I still regret till this day.

From the mouth of Saint Aaliyah…

“And if at first you don’t succeed, dust yo’self off and try again.”

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