Probably if it's done by Tim Minchin or a good comic. Or maybe an emo indie band that makes listeners feel as if its despair is the pain of the universe and isn't just first world angst.
Most of my whining is preschool resentment of what I have to do next. I wonder what percentage of the grownup population gets that feeling that they'd rather do anything but [ blank ] at the very moment they should most be [ blanking ]?
Blank can equal "stop drinking" "exercise" "go to work" "get the hell out of bed" "drink enough water" I suppose blank can reach all the way to "stay alive."
I'm not at that whatthehell point, thank you. Have been before, will again, I'm sure, but not right now. I've just noticed in the past that one of the first things to go at the start of the whine and rinse cycles are the stories and uh oh, the pleasure is sliding away.
And the sad thing is that even though I now have pleasant stripes in my hair, I am no longer attractive enough for this sort of malcontented mood to be mildly interesting to outsiders. Now if I could carry a tune like that singer in Low, maybe I could get some mileage out of this.
Okay, almost nothing I do is interesting to outsiders, but I'd finally gotten to the point when I usually couldn't care less about that. Wait a moment!
. . . the gears are grinding. . .
I've decided I don't care now, either, again. Gotta love the human mind's ability to adapt and I think I've just adapted. Maybe I'll go try to write a story and see if I'm better yet.
Now if only I could get the pleasure from stories (mine and others), I'd be all set. Second-hand passion is better than none.