Breathe Me

In my last post, I was saying how I figured I'd spend my tax refund on my Mexico trip in November. Pfft. Probably not. It'll likely get spent on Smokey. Little tub's breath smells like a motherfucker. I think he's having tooth and gum pain. Dollars to doughnuts he'll need a tooth pulled in the near future. What can you expect from an animal who's spent the past 16 years of life with questionable oral hygiene? I haven't exactly been brushing his teeth. My poor sucky kitty. Worry for him sometimes keeps me up at night. He's at my feet right now meowing at me.

I ordered in Chinese food tonight. The Dude left me with some of his spaghetti sauce in the fridge, but I was in the mood to be self indulgent. It's better than the ice cream I ate last night.

Ridiculous. But really, I've just given up thinking and worrying about certain things, like cooking. I've taken on other domestic tasks in turn. If the Dude and I were to part, I'd go back to eating three servings of Kraft Dinner a week, and he'd manage his finances into a living in a cardboard box condo. Funny how much you grow to rely on each other.

Though I miss him when he's gone, this is a good opportunity for me to enjoy unrestricted use of the apartment. The TV is mine. I can play the Wii. It's completely silent and I'm peeing with the door open. I can play any music I like, and my tastes are generally very mainstream top 40. The music I like that doesn't fall under that category tends to be on the depressing side.

Exhibit A: Hero, Regina Spektor.
Exhibit B: Breathe Me, Sia
Exhibit C: 9 Crimes, Damien Rice

I've always liked depressing stuff. It feels authentic and in its own strange way, uplifting. The melancholy makes me feel comfortable. I think I like songs and stories that evoke a feeling that feels true. And that makes me happy. But it has to have a sweetness to it. It can't be aching hollow pain for the sake of pain. Movies like, say, Requiem For A Dream are enough to make me want to throw myself in front of a bus.

If I were to sit here with the Dude and listen to sad songs and watch sad movies, I think he'd get concerned for my mental health. But as it is, I'm indulging in some sweet, sweet sadness. It feels calm and soothing somehow. It doesn't have to make sense.