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There are times when my self-esteem reaches such a low point that you would need industrial diggers working several months overtime just to discover in what geological stratum said self-esteem was currently located. And, well, this is one of those times. I'm an emotional basket-case utterly incapable of coping with modern life. The only thing I can do to help myself when this kind of situation arises is watch some WSOP or WPT footage and try to catch a sight of Hellmuth or Matusow suffering a bad beat. Then at least I can see that, bad as I am, I'm not that bad.
As if this weren't enough, it looks like the leak in the vestibule to the house is being caused by a leak in my central heating. I am not absolutely certain of this, but, if it is true, I might as well start burning the fifty pound notes now, because it will take a long time and a lot of burning to get up to the cost of repairing it. Plus the inconvenience of living in a place with floorboards ripped up for god knows how long. And I haven't even got a clue whom to telephone. Bollox.
I'm developing my theory that a blog is (at least for me, and probably for quite a few others), a kind of "imaginary friend" for grown-ups. Men, in particular, can't emote with other men, mainly because other men get very uncomfortable when it happens. Women can emote with other women and, sometimes, men can emote with other women, although if the man is heterosexual there are always complex undertones that never quite go away. But a blog, well, you can emote to your blog just like you can do it to your psychiatrist. On the minus side, the whole world gets to know about it. On the plus side, it's a lot cheaper.
As if this weren't enough, it looks like the leak in the vestibule to the house is being caused by a leak in my central heating. I am not absolutely certain of this, but, if it is true, I might as well start burning the fifty pound notes now, because it will take a long time and a lot of burning to get up to the cost of repairing it. Plus the inconvenience of living in a place with floorboards ripped up for god knows how long. And I haven't even got a clue whom to telephone. Bollox.
I'm developing my theory that a blog is (at least for me, and probably for quite a few others), a kind of "imaginary friend" for grown-ups. Men, in particular, can't emote with other men, mainly because other men get very uncomfortable when it happens. Women can emote with other women and, sometimes, men can emote with other women, although if the man is heterosexual there are always complex undertones that never quite go away. But a blog, well, you can emote to your blog just like you can do it to your psychiatrist. On the minus side, the whole world gets to know about it. On the plus side, it's a lot cheaper.
