koolthing

I sat down tonight and started to put together pictures from the World Press Photo exhibition, and just couldn't do it. I was in a dark quiet room, rain pattering on the skylight as usual looking at a screen filled with dead and dying children, oil spills and junkies - and I just had to put it off until tomorrow and go take a really long bath. I am sure it is partially because of the exhaustion level from drinking with the Russians last night,but it was just too difficult.

There is a part of an old Soft Cell song chips on my shoulder I was listening to earlier tonight...

"Misery, Complaints, Self Pity, Injustice
There's no time for fun time
It's sit and complain time
I'll talk about famine while cooking the dinner
Don't you feel guilty
Don't you feel pity (No)
While my head gets fatter
And the starving get thinner"

*ouch*

It felt a little too close to home...