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Appropriate Music:
This Mortal Coil, Blood
PJ Harvey, Is This Desire?

Yadda yadda yadda, fuck it all. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.

Nothing. Today was full of nothing. In fact, recently everything's been full of nothing.

The Almighty Geller (whom you will hear about someday, I'm sure) says I'm on a plateau, and that's okay. I feel like I'm stuck in a rut, and it's not okay. 

Just, what's the use? I fancy myself a writer, and yet I can't sit myself down and write anything. I fancy myself an artist, and yet I don't create. I fancy myself a delver into the occult, and yet I don't feel especially enlightened. Maybe I should fancy myself a schmuck - that way, I won't have very far to reach.

Okay, see, here's the deal. I'm unemployed. I have no permanent job. This one place I interviewed at still hasn't gotten around to a promised second interview. Meanwhile, I'm still not writing, I'm still a poor schnook in the middle of suburban Boston, and I haven't talked to God face-to-face. Something is drastically wrong.

This is an ugly piece. I know this already. Maybe I should just accept the fact that I'm simply a halfway-decent Web designer who's a honking game geek and be happy with that.

But I'm not. Isn't it frustrating when you know you could do so much more, but aren't?

I know so many people who aren't doing what they can or want to. It's this generational malaise that seems to have struck us all...

Hold on, the John is bringing a blanket and towel outside. I simply must check this out. Oh, never mind, he's just sticking 'em in the wash. Ah well. Tangent is over. Resume self-pity.

I don't know. I just received what could be my first bit of fan mail, and I count it as such because it wasn't sent by someone I know. And considering my previous rant concerned how artless the Web is...

You know what I need? A hobby. But I don't know what. Any suggestions?

Ah well. Enough for now. I gotta clear my head, I gotta get a job, I gotta figure out what's up with me. 

-- sjc