Do you know what’s worse than the existential dread of having to get up in the morning and go to work? Knowing that you don’t really have anything to complain about in the grand scheme of the pageant of humanity.

I have a job I actually like and that I’m actually pretty good at performing. I have a good balance between that and a range of friends that I actually get to see or interact with fairly often. I’m enjoying the endless rewrites of my book. I might be in my dad’s living room, but money is almost right to change that.

Life is fair. Not always evenhanded, but fair. And I’m sitting around doggy paddling in an ocean of dread and thoughts ranging from being sour about the fall of Constantinople to wondering who I’m going to room with so I can trust my shit won’t vanish in the middle of the night.

Ever have those nights, where everything is pretty much OK but where you think the world is on fire?