Dark Rides

Had one of those terrible Mondays.

Traversed the city looking for something that I couldn't find. I almost found it at this one place but it was missing something. So I walked home empty-handed. Real poetic like.

Had my phone on me. I was anticipating a slew of calls: none came through.

This is how it works. I should really come to expect this in the business, but it's always jarring. One day, you're in Siberia. The next day, the sun is shining and everyone wants to be your friend. The day after tomorrow, you're trapped in a spontaneous ice-age. And then it starts ALL OVER AGAIN,

LAUGHING, CRYING, LAUGHING, CRYING!!

I did get a call from a producer who was supposed to call me a few weeks back. Could be hanging out with him later in the week.

And another promising opportunity presented itself which I will DEFINITELY not be discussing in detail here. But in a strange way, I think this opportunity cast the darkest cloud over my Monday...

Imagine that you're locked up in a prison for life. And this one day, someone tells you, "Hey, we might let you out later this week."

And that's the last you hear of it.

Sometimes, a little hope can be cruel and painful.

It's like an old wound being opened up. That familiar stinging sensation. Almost paralyzing.

Hope can fucking hurt.

Better to remain numb, though? I don't know.

But you don't want to read me prattling on about this...

I know what you fucking want:

I used my silent cell phone to capture this image of the Batmobile, parked on the Upper West Side.

And nearby, a covered BatPod...?