I shared with Goblin earlier that I’d decided to devote today and tomorrow to feeling sorry for myself. To cry as much as I could and wallow in heartbreak the way only a 30-year-old woman can: by listening to Soft Cell’s Tainted Love, eating fat free chocolate pudding pops and laughing at how her methods of dealing with a breakup haven’t changed in 15 years.

My eyes are burning and my stomach is churning while I stare aimlessly at my blinds and wonder how on earth a ladybug got into my house, and whether or not I should try and gently remove him from the premises. A song pops into my head and I realize I HAVE to pop in a CD perfect for the occasion. But where the hell is it? Ah, finally. A lovely compilation from Leonard Cohen’s son’s band, Low Millions, called Ex-Girlfriends. That’s right, each and every song is about a different breakup. Perfect.

Do I want Eleanor? The radio-ready song that I’ve heard playing in grocery stores for years? “And I won’t call you baby, anymore, like I did before… Eleanor.” Hm, no. Not quite right. Oh wait, maybe Behinder should listen to it: “You left your smell, you left your taste, you left me here with my mistakes.”

No, it’s Statue that I want.

Without you,
I’ve been standing here ’round like a statue,
Laying on the floor thinking about you,
Talk to myself like the crazies do,
Otherwise I’m great. What about you?”

And as I listen, I read more of Sexagenarian in the City’s blog, who inspires me to do some real writing, not this rambling crap that feels like more of a 16-year-old version of Hunter S. Thompson whining.