I THINK I stay up so late because I can’t take going to bed without Grendel. I’m crying now, at the thought.
I’m a fuckin’ mess.
I’m so goddamn lonely.
I miss him SO much. Maybe I’ll cry myself to. Sleep again, tonight.
Maybe? Shit, who’m I kidding?
No one, least of all, me.
Arguing for my independence with my trust lords has gotten really old, really fast. See, I’m like a poor man’s Brittany Spears: all my money is in a special needs trust, dispensed as need be by my Trustees: Gil Roth and Peter Johnson. Gil, I’ve been friends with since St. John’s. Peter does this for a living, & cuts me a world of always legal and ethical slack. More tomorrow. Nighty-night.