The month is coming to a close, and for the first time in a long time I am not looking forward to August.  Strange.  I have several charity functions to attend and my birthday is that month as well, though this year I near it with almost no reverence.  July has been a very exciting and expensive month, and as the year winds into its descent, I feel that time will continue to be more and more expensive and draining, and 2011 will find me as a potato chip in tattered clothing, bereft of the bodily fluid required to cry about my situation.

Daily I assess my career and how little money I’m making and my inherent inability to keep any amount of it from slipping between my fingers.  It’s very annoying, as the date for the wedding closes in and the random aches and pains of being on this side of thirty swell and threaten to send me scurrying to WebMD.  I can’t save money and go see a doctor or even buy a piece of shit car to take me to said doctor.  Because I do love my fiancee and I don’t want to die before the wedding.  The day of, that’s fine.  As long as we can still have the party that we’ve already paid so much for, I’ll die happy.

In other news, ComicCon is here in San Diego and the days have been just packed with awesomeness, color, and light.  I absolutely adore this time of year.  The workplace becomes unbearably busy and loud and congested and crowded and, in a word, righteous.  Everyone dresses up and we all get stressed out and the staff makes a ton of money and I count it.  Everyone has their duty to do and it all gets done and afterwards we all get drunk. 

I just feel like sometimes it would be nice to have more purpose, more determination, and more fucking money!   Goddamn, I hate dwelling on it, but it is kind of important.  Oh well; I’ll keep writing and making music and films and working and someday it’ll all add up to something worthwhile.  And worth something.