I should be finishing a work project that has become my albatross. Week after week it is incomplete, and I am not even sure why exactly I find it so difficult to finish.

In the world of comedy, I also feel kind of apathetic and unable to complete things. I signed up for a new open mike, which should be a good thing. But, maybe it’s the snow or the barometer or general ennui, but I just don’t feel like going. I was also planning to go to another open mike in Dorchester afterwards, but now it seems blah. The same goes for tomorrow night, when I’ll be at the Comedy Studio at the Hong Kong in Harvard Square.

I’ll very likely snap out of it, when I have to and do fine, but still and all it would be nice to go home, eat waffles and watch TV. I’m all up in the waffles these days. Waffles rule!

Oh, there is now incontrovertible scientific proof that I am a whining, pathetic douchebag. After not getting invited to do a show and braying ad nauseum in these very pages, I got an email today to be a part of it. Cynically, I wonder what’s up for the request of my presence, like maybe someone else dropped out. Or there was a sudden call for a talented, mouthy, middle-aged tomato, such as I am. The true measure of my foolishness is it doesn’t even fucking matter, since I have always planned to be on vacation that week. Yes, indeedily doo, I am an insecure weasel.

On the bright side, my friend’s brother who I mentioned last night made it through surgery. It’s going to be a long road, but at least for now there is a road. Still wishing I had something to say or contribute beyond concerned thoughts.

Maybe more later if I think of anything worth typing.

Instead, maybe I should order some waffles to go with my WWWWWHHHHHHIIIIINNNNNEEEEE.