"The rest of the story, to Grand's thinking, was very simple. The common lot of married couples. You get married, you go on loving a bit longer, you work. And you work so hard that it makes you forget to love."

- camus, the plague

I think it's a mistake for someone of my nervous & self-doubting disposition to read so much Camus before marrying. This is much worse than the Psychology Today quiz on happy marriages that just came out. I took it, and the outcome is...uncertain. They're all agin me.

I absently turned on "Abbey Road" for some company while writing this entry, and what do you think issued out?

"You're asking me, will me love grow?
I don't know, I don't know!"

Sometimes the recorded works of the Beatles are better than I Ching. More danceable, too.

Now we're on to "Octopus' Garden," which reminds me of something Cranly once said: that the rest of the Beatles must have quite dreaded the moments when Ringo would cheerfully approach. "I've written a song, lads. Would ya like a listen?" "Oh....all right." For some reason, I've never been able to communicate the humour of that comment to anyone else, and more's the pity.

I don't feel like writing anything heavy today. I've just spent a goodly amount of time transcribing Thursday's rant, and I'm wrestling with weekend boredom. Nobody in the 905 calls me to do anything fun...or calls me at all, for that matter (the single exception being Upright Animal, who left a message with my mother last weekend). And I'm trapped by this suck-ass weekend job.

That's it. I pledge to you that I will not work another weekend past the end of January. I'm tired of watching YTV's Buffy rerun and pretending that I'm having a good time. At least in the city I had some choice as to whether I wanted to slack or party on the weekend.

Is it unusual to look forward to marriage because you'll be able to get out of the house and hang out in grotty clubs wearing slutty clothes more often?