Depression Headache

...when the depression is so bad it actually feels like a physical pressure on the inside of your skull.

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Carry on, little hammer - you were always my favourite toy. The Pale Saints' Comforts Of Madness and paint fumes have been keeping me sane for the past week. I wish I had the CD here.

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Was the interweb always this boring, or did I just forget the tedious bits while I was off it? FOR GODS SAKE, SOMEONE SAY SOMETHING, ANYTHING BEFORE MY BRAIN EXPLODES FROM ATROPHY!

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My lunchtime curry is not hot enough. This is because I made it in a panic at 10pm last night when I realised I'd been painting for about 12 hours straight and I had nothing to eat for lunch the rest of the week.

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OK, so I went out at lunchtime, mainly to buy some tea as I've nearly run out, and my bandmates insist that they are not drinking tonight at rehearsal (which is a shame, as I picked up some nice Rioja on a tip from Mr. Nite), and as I was on my way back from Sainsburys with my PG Tips (I always buy PG Tips because they are pyramid shaped, and I'm convinced that this ads ORGONE ENERGY to the anti-oxidants) I really really did intend to stop at a coffeeshop and get some Proper Coffee for the first time since Lent is over, but as I walked in, I was assaulted by a wall of smoke so solid and inpenetrable that I had to turn back, coughing, and now I'm back in the office, and back on the methadone green tea.

I have vague memories of smoking a cigarette on Saturday afternoon. This is odd, as I don't smoke. I blame Dylan Moran. Or peer pressure. Or something.