It’s Tuesday, and my RSS is filled with Game of Thrones recaps. Every website seems to have one, even the websites that have previously shown no interest in the show. Even those that have shown no interest in TV. Game of Thrones is everywhere.
It’s Tuesday, and the first sign of the election being in full swing is a mailbox full of flyers from the local representative of the god-awful-stupid-fucking-racist-cocks party, who is determined to inform me about the wave of Islamic radicalisation that’s sweeping Australia and how he and his god-awful fuckwit cronies are going to stop it.
It’s Tuesday, and I am angry. I am repeating the word motherfucker over and over. I am pacing the length of the apartment. I am brooding over my morning coffee. I am fighting the urge to be angry on the internet, and obviously I am failing.
Motherfucker.
Motherfucker.
Motherfucker.
It’s Tuesday, and at least there are things to look forward to this evening. People to see, places to go, conversations to have with interesting peeps. I can look forward to that.
But still, goddammit, Tuesday. You were supposed to be better than this.
