Monday, 11/03/03 - 10:33 am.
It's funny how the sunlight doesn't come through my window in the afternoon, anymore.
The world's rotation never stops to amuse me.
The blisters on my fingers have become more severe, but my guitar playing hasn't improved a lot. One day I'll get it right, thought. I do know the opening riff to Walk This Way, Last Child and several Beatles songs. Guitar lessons are over, so now I'm on my own.
Friends it's almost on, and tomorrow it's D's birthday. I have this huge dilemma whether to send him a congratulations e-card/e-mail/text message (anything) or not. I probably won't, he won't give a fuck anyway, just like last year.
I'll probably send him a "very merry unbirthday" message today, and that'll be all. Quoting and twisting The Beatles' quote from A Hard Day's Night: "who's that bitter old man?". He's unnecesarly bitter, and his conversation topics are overly limited: blondes, football soccer and the difficult math professors. Occasionally about the sad, sad day he broke his nose. That's a tangent, but I needed to get it off my chest (haven't I already?).