CURRENT MOOD: tragi-comic
I had one of those days, where luck was dictated by a shower of bird shit on my jacket. It’s hard to recover from that just as, I’m finding, it’s hard to recover from many things. Now I keep trying to put myself back there, wondering how I must have looked, wiping away at fresh bird shit with a Starbucks napkin. I am guessing I looked like a trifle, like the world’s smartest boy, like a person being groomed for disappointment. I hope it was a test instead of a final grade.
Given the way I feel presently, the temptation to martyr myself has never been greater. And, lord, what a convenient medium for such activities. But I’ll spare the audience and just say this: I can’t wait until I’m funny again. Something I think, now and then, I’m actually good at and apparently willing to work at. In fact, I wrote a new self-made martyr joke tonight:
I finally decided what tattoo I’m going to get. On my shoulder, twin theater masks: Tragedy and Tragedy. See? (he laughed nervously) I’m better already!
