the moon bores of me and starts to wane

Back and underwhelmed with the present state of my reality. As soon as I suck up enough air and start sleeping enough to properly function, I'm sure I'll have plenty to say.

In the meantime, I've got those What The Fuck Am I Doing With My Life/Doesn't Anybody Love Me/Wanna Be Back On That Sailboat Blues.

Brief update for those who may have been paying attention:

• The G.I.Q. did not forget about me and, while things with him are perhaps as tentative as ever, I remain thrilled daily by the thought of him.

• My job was not hijacked as such, but I was informed that I am (personally!) to raise $150,000 by December. Or else.

• Had dinner with The Pilot last night during his 14 hour layover from JFK to LGA. How very strange the dice of the world if you only let them roll . . .

• I'm singing on stage again in April, hi-ho, hi-ho.
  

• And—finally—tonight is Em's belated birthday dinner, the thought of which is all that's keeping me slogging forward through the sleep-dep delirium of today.