Thoughtless little pigs...

...are everywhere. And I'm not talking about Alec Baldwin's daughter, who didn't deserve to have his intemperate characterization of her spread all over the media.

Why did I start writing about that? I'm certainly not going to expose the thoughtless pigs, big and small, who have made my life more irritating than I could have managed on my own. It's tempting, but I've managed to suppress the urge up to now. Seems to be a good policy for the future, too.

That said, my evening with Mr Beam last night was not exactly as I would have liked. After a single shot, I felt stupid; the times when alcohol has not been a downer have always involved other people, whether lovers, friends or colleagues. I wound up making a big cup of hot chocolate and trundling off to bed.

Not exactly the picture of a two-fisted drinker any more, am I?

The general sense of frustration and irritation remains. How the hell do I get rid of it? I know what not to do, but I've always found the best cure for this mood is to have something good come along. Doesn't even have to relate to the source of the bad feelings, though any possible nice moments I can imagine would be connected to at least one of the things bugging me.

Not likely any will come along any time soon, though. My schedule for the next few months revolves entirely around doing work and finding more work. That is my reality.

I have not so much as looked at the story that has been an albatross around my neck this week and remains unfinished. I did turn out a couple of smaller, easier pieces, but all I'll get out of them is money (eventually). No satisfaction.

Oh well, enough whingeing.

I may be back later with rants. I don't see much beyond the borders of my life that doesn't anger me, either.