Rob-world

It’s been that way, day after day, for. The past 4 years, especially.;

Still depressed. Hell, it’s become a low, constant, hum in my soul. This is all the writing I do, now. This was another lost day. Not even I give a fuck anymore: about anything except Grendel’s well-being. I’ve got to try writing these in the a.m. Maybe listing what I hope to do each day will make for a better write/read than this. Please, God. This just isn’t my natural state, always being such a “Debbie Downer”.

That I just can’t seem to do much more than sleep. The trip to L.A. has turned into, for me, a chance to say good-bye and “I love you” TO MY L.A. friends. I’d best re-patriate to Ireland before Inauguration Day, 1/20.

It seems like no one I know is taking this Trump-forthcoming gay Holocaust parallels concern of mine seriously. I am. FUCK, I am.