Wednesday, 17 December 2008

Reflections on NOT been a rock star

I guess I'm paying the price for too much Irish merriment. I can't seem to take the pace, late nights, beer, cigarettes, song, Irish people. It's been a week and I'm still coughing up phlegm and looking like death. I'm considering packing it all in, getting a job, a cat and a sensible cardigan. I'm mourning my rapidly slipping away youth and am wondering what I will do when I can no longer get away with stuff, just 'cos I have a youthful appearance. I'm hoping that I will be able to fall back on been quirky instead. At what point do I need to put away my cds and stop painting my nails black I wonder?

I'm feeling a little ugh-y due to the fact that I'm still coughing up yellow phlegm and have no job. I should be sitting in bars mingling with interesting foreign people in exciting cities, been flattered something stupid and drinking too much beer and embarrassing myself by saying silly things and doing even sillier things. Sigh for been sickly and poor.

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