It's possible I'm going to have a heart attack. Like, soon. Can’t count the number of days of this hollow, malfunctioning feeling in my chest. If you're checking the blog over the next and there's a sudden cessation of new postings, it's probably because they didn't get me to the hospital on time. (Or maybe I won the lottery! Fuck all y'all!)

STRESS.

Things at work got bad. Really, really bad. They will get worse. This I know. In the home life, I am directionless and utterly without point. There's this movie I've wanted to make for (and now with the literally) ten years and I frequently do not make it.

This is, I presume, how one's life becomes one's life.

For a big watershed year where a lot of things would change and get decided, so far, I hate the living shit out of 2009. And where's my hoverboard, Zemeckis? I am getting mightily tired of waiting.

Somehow, things got to a very bad pitch here. The economic (and forthcoming environmental) recession is a poorly-transparent metaphor for the recession in life. I need a stimulus package of the soul.