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7:05 pm - Thurs 9/9/04
Another Burst Of Impotent Anger

Another Burst of Impotent Anger

Thurs 9/9/04 (6:30 p.m.)

No commercial auditions for the past two weeks.

Nothing to see at the movies (Saw Hero last week with Brad W, which was great, but nothing's "floating my boat" this week).

Changes at work I'd rather not have to deal with.

And for the life of me, I can't seem to get myself to move.

I'm so tired...

I didn't even leave the apartment till 10:00 p.m. last night, to check my mail.

Today, I got farther. I actually took a shower, shaved, and brushed my teeth (Still bothered by that huge gap, by the way. No one told me that root canal was going to leave my teeth more mishappen than when we began). And I took my change jar to Ralphs, thinking I'd use it to fund today's fun (I've felt guilty and stressed over the amount of money I've been spending lately, all on penny-ante shit, so it seemed a smart thing to do).

Only there was no fun. I used the money to buy a couple 12-packs of Coke, some chips, and walked back home, where I've stayed the rest of the day, periodically checking my email–there's been nothing--playing solitaire, and reading A Widow For One Year (I'm a little more than halfway through).

I've had all day to check Backstage, but haven't done it yet (I'm way off last year's submission rate, which is another source of upset and stress. It may feel pointless–sending headshot after headshot out with no response–but I've gotta do it, cause it's all I've got right now. Basically, I've given in to hopelessness, frustration, and worst of all, fear, which just makes me angry with myself for being so fucking weak).

And I'm fat. Fat as I've ever been.

Tired, fat, balding, gasbag piece of shit loser, that can't even rouse himself to have fun, can't motivate himself to even leave the fucking apartment, let alone do the hard work of making it out here.

Boo-hoo, you fucking crybaby. Why don't you go cry to your mommy?

(Ooops! I forgot–You don't have one. Poor thing...)

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I'm not doing anything right out here. Three years now, and where are my friends? Where are my "connections"? Where is my resume full of student films, and plays, and movies, and tv shows? I still look like I've been out here for about ten fucking minutes, and whose fucking fault is that?

Boo-hoo. I'm tired, I'm depressed, I'm lonely, I'm horny, I'm fat and bald and hairy and ugly and lazy and useless're so very sad. Poor baby...

Everyone's making it. Everyone's moving on, getting married, having kids, having a life, and here I am, in a single apartment I can barely afford, doing nothing and going nowhere.

What a pathetic, fucked-up, asshole loser...

Why do I fuck everything up? Why does it feel like I run everything into the fucking ground? Why am I always alone, always apart, always the one who never seems to be getting anywhere?



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