These are expensive times, expensive times with little money to spend. And they wonder why the fuck record sales go down? That is but the tip of the proverbial iceberg, sire. I mean, I’m not poor, exactly, but there’s a high cost of living I haven’t experienced before. I guess I’m to blame for living in the city. I guess I’m to blame for only working 75%. I guess I’m to blame for not asking for astronomical wages. Any which way, there is very little money left each month and there’s very little I can do about it.
Of course, there is some “luxury” involved, such as food, the odd night out, the movies, computer & network fees, a record now and then, a magazine once in a blue moon, some cheap concerts, things like that, but BEJABBERS! is that not every person’s right? I think it is. One mustn’t grumble, they say, but why not? I shall grumble as much as I feel like (which is not so much, as a matter of fact). I “accidentally” spent 60-something Ä on books – comic books to make it worse – the other day, and I realize I should perhaps have spent them on the dentist instead, but easy come, easy go and such flummery.
And I still haven’t read them all: need to suck that caramel slowly now. As an aside, I must say something that I’ve said before: Tony Millionaire is a genius of a man! 3 of the books I bought was Mr. Millionaire’s Sock Monkey collections, which are, I daresay, almost as great as his Maakies collection.
But back to the money: is this the way it’s supposed to be as I grow older? Not enough money to travel anywhere, not enough money to buy good furniture, not enough money to get a loan and one day buy an apartment or other habitat.
What, I say, is the world coming to? Perhaps it’s just me growing old. Old and cranky. I better eat some supper before I start rambling, Grampa Simpson-stylee.