It's been some time. That's not good. Ah well. This is more stream. I'm scared. I'm lonely. I want to kiss someone very badly. I want to fuck someone very badly. It seems that my tastes have changed. But at the same time they haven't. But I do want to feel some girl up who dresses like a girl. I guess I want a woman. But I keep finding these underage girls attractive at Jeckyll and Hyde. It makes me wonder if I will ever stop. Then again, I wonder . . . is it reasonable to think that as I age, so will my taste in women? Wouldn't I find the same things attractive that I used to? Is not that reasonable? We may call it bad in our culture, but morals and humanity are rarely in synch. I'm not interested in these girls for their minds. I'm not even interested in them, really. But there is an optimism that hasn't been crushed by the weight of the world in these girls, and that is so beautiful. To think that I could live the rest of my life without having a romantic partner with that quality scares me. Granted, I don't know that I'll ever be with another girl. I seem to be becoming more and more invisible. I still feel like a boy. And I'm not. But I am. I'm drinking whiskey right now. Jack Daniels. I don't much like it. I just started. No, I'm not feeling it yet.

I'm listening to a song called "Bluebird of Happiness" by Mojave3. I have no idea how it got onto my computer. I like it. A lot. I'm hoping to be saved right now. I fucked up. I really did. I stayed here. And I've been spending too much money. And I haven't worked as much as I'd like to. And I'm coming up on rent-time. And I'm unbelievably short. I think the bank of Mom and Dad is going to save me this time. This will probably be the last time. I actually asked my Mom to borrow money just now. I'm hoping I pull through alright. I think I will. But I can't waste any time fucking around in January. I need a job I can sustain myself on. And I need it now. I know I shouldn't have stayed in New York. I know that. I should've put my tail between my legs and gone to Portland or something. But I just didn't want to. I just feel so good here. I feel like I'm building a life. And this is beginning to feel like my home.

I guess that it hasn't made much sense to people as to why I left. I guess my main hope was (and still is) that once I finally put myself back together, I'll have simultaneously created for myself a career as a working actor in NYC. When I left, I didn't want to come to New York. When I got here, I didn't want to stay. It didn't make a lot of sense. But I really was at the end of my rope. I was about to kill myself. And I'm not anymore. I figured that I needed a new life. Now, I am scared, and I want to give up all the time, but I'm not suicidal anymore.

I'm kinda tired of writing about that. The Mr. John Daniels is beginning to take effect. I love you. I miss you. Merry Christmas.