Those versed in things NoozeHound may recall the Rockstar Exit (TM).
It was always so terribly impractical due to the lack of access to the 'killer' ingredients, if you will pardon the pun.
The main theme was to party with two attractive female sex workers, indulge in Cocaine and Champagne and conclude overdosing on Herion.
Having necked every pill I could lay my hands on recently to no ill-effect, I'd put the exit route aside for the time being, filed under failed projects.
NoozeHound did a flit and moved out of the house this weekend. The ex whas been positively hostile. I don't understand. I thought it was what she wanted.
It seems she wanted me to stay on as her live-in housekeeper while she sought out pastures new, just not rocking her world.
She seems neither to realize or accept that being around her not wanting me is destroying me. I have been called selfish and childish, dramatic and stupid.
Every expression of my feelings was charged with being dramatic or feeling sorry for myself. When you are hurt isn't it usual to be feeling sorry yourself?
Returning to my theme, it emerges that my escape-pod is in a neigbourhood where there is a rumoured heroin dealer.
Funnny how Dream's sister, whichever of them it was, can point the way so subtly.
Welcome to the disappointment.
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We can't both be right, it's probably me.
What say you esteemed visitor?