Summer In The Year Of Our Lord, Two Thousand And Nine

The season claiming to be "summer" begins to make its hobbled exit from a decidedly low-key performance. We seem to have got the understudy this year. Bashful meteorology aside, this summer has been, to quote Richard III, "batshit fucking insane."

I returned in March with no job, no home, no money. But I returned. To readers who share my actor's vocabulary, this was the second of my "super objectives." (The first took me away.) Unemployment was a 4 1/2 month exercise in patience, panic, and disappointment. The demure solstice made an overcast backdrop for my spend-nothing/do-nothing prison of poverty. New York is not cheap, you know.

But now the leaves turn. Now I have a job. A really good job. And I am so happy. And summer slowly changes to my favorite season: fall. I loose my youth, but I gain my life. I get to spend paychecks on Williams Sonoma cookwear and drugs.

"I've been thinking everything I ever thought." - Alex