Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

Awkward, fumbling, anti-climactic weekend spent with strangers. But predominantly spent alone, as if that had to be said.

Something about right now feels like a punishment.

An excessive tax levied against a bleeding heart.

Met a girl this weekend who thought I was a good decade younger than I am. In person, at first impressions, people tend to think I'm a lot younger and party-minded than I am. Which is not to say that I don't like to rock the party—I *like* to rock the party—but people imagine me in a far more extravagant social world than the one I inhabit.

(At least, the people who aren't privy to the conspiracy of this blog.)

I guess this is part of the outward deception. I *look* like I should be having a better time than I am. When, in fact, I am having a stultifyingly atrocious time.

I need a boost. I need a boost. I need the boost.

"Friday the 13th" has banked the biggest opening weekend for a horror movie in history. To date. A Paramount/Platinum Dunes production. Jesus Christ, I hope this helps us. I pray this helps our project. Because I need this. I need the boost. On so many levels.

I think I've suffered enough to EARN this boost.

It is cold and lonely in the deep, dark night. Can't see the forest for the trees.

Light a candle for me. Light a few.