back.

the usual crying and headaches and happiness to drive which will, of
course, change.

it's really comfortable here. man, it's so comfy. they may hate us,
but we sure are comfortable. man, it's sooo comfy.

the night before we left, we stayed with georgia y pete. everyone in
the flat smoked and i slept in a bed that reeked of stale cigarettes
as did the entire flat. i would wake up gagging from the stench.
horrible. horrible. horrible. nice to have somewhere to stay, of course, but the smell... yeesh.

our buddy, emma, was cool enough to take us to the airport. amazing of
her. she saved us a busload of money by doing that. i paid for her
meals a few times, but it still didn't match the value. really cool.

when we got on the plane in london, i switched my sim card back to my
u.s. phone and nearly started weeping. i'm such a fucking pussy. those
little things that are meaningless but mean so much. i'm a fucking
nut.

took my last vicodin and valium and passed out for 9 of the 10 hours
of the flight. well done. thank you, you evil pharmaceutical
conglomerates for making my life better.

it's all about comfort.

jessie picked us up from the airport at the worst time to pick someone
up; right around rush hour. she was waiting at the domestic terminal
so i abandoned victor to find her and nearly broke down again when i saw her.
who knows why she's with me?

i've got all of these feelings about being "over" and discarded and
without use now. i feel like the time where i have something to offer
the world is past and now i'm just waiting for this all to end. i've
done a funny show that's inconsequential which has some clever writing
and cute performances in it. other than that. who fucking cares? my
teachers were right: lots of potential but will never amount to
anything.

i have a lovely wife. man, she's wonderful. and, fuck, she picks me up
from the airport at rush hour. that, my friends, is love. that's the
important stuff. i know that's the important stuff, but the superfical
showbiz crap breaks my heart.

i think this is what they call post festival depression.

¶ 1:37 PM