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I'm always depressed now

& lonely.  SO FUCKING LONELY.  It’s been this way for years, so many, that I’m finally all right with moaning about it.  I’ve stopped worrying, and basing my commentary on what people who love me might find hard to hear.  Almost to a man, those who DO care about me say they’d rather hear me honestly.  

So, here goes:  I have many Friends, but few friends here, in Philadelphia.

More tomorrow; I’m so damn tired, from my constant depression over my heavily winnowed life.

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I'm sooooooo effing tired.

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.