Piss. Piss. Piss

Being depressed, as a rule, is no fun. So let's just say I'm not having any fun. Ok, maybe a little fun. Sam is extolling the literary virtues of Godzilla Movie plots. He should be writing a paper. I'm glad to help folks procrastinate. I don't know quite what to think of today, or this week, or this season for that matter. What a crappy time it's been, peppered with some good stuff, yes, but on the whole it averages out to crappy. Dave thinks I'm lonely--and maybe I am. I really don't know. I just don't have alot other than him to live for, day to day. No good active hobbies. . .exactly what can one do in this place? I feel with out direction and motivation, and at the same time a gnawing desire to be doing something or nap. Not bad, per se, more like nothing good happening, nothing to really look forward to. . .sigh. Not much I could share here. It's just me feeling unlovely. Which will suck when I'm older since any lovliness I might think I have will be fading. Right now I like to think I'm just too depressed to feel good. Yes, I think that's it.