Friday, January 18, 2008
No seriously I think I've found my future husband.
He is a writer and he's obsessed with being sad.
His book is called Against Happiness: In Praise of Melancholy. Couple that with my penchant for sad French films where the lead actress is treated like shit and my slight obsession with "Atmosphere" by Joy Division, and you can clearly see we are a match made in a deppressive's heaven.
Together we could spawn a lovechild to rival Ian Curtis and Sylvia Plath as the saddest person ever. He would listen to Elliott Smith and wax poetic on nihilism and generally be an unhappy asshole. YES! I can't believe I've found my match. Eric... call me. We can have sex and cry about how meaningless it was afterwards.