I guess I sort of didn't take it fully seriously when people always claimed that Bob Dylan is a genius.

But yeah... I'm kind of starting to get it now.




I got off the drugs. Life is darker and more difficult again... and I'm sweating like David Foster Wallace.

What I'm saying is that my life as Dr. House has reached its end. (I still haven't seen the last episode, does House die in it? Don't tell me. ["Don't tell me" is a weird thing to say when I'm still the only person capable of seeing this blog. {Or am I?}])

Watched Bob Dylan documentaries, tried to understand the pretentious stuff he was saying, suddenly got it and stopped trying, remembered that reason alone won't make life fun.

Maybe the question is not: are you happy?, but: are you having fun? Are you having fun? And you know, I'm not really talking about pleasure... I'm talking about... joy, if that's the right word for this, it seems like something a lot more meaningful and less enslaving to look for. And maybe "look for" is misleading in itself. Do what you have to do, and if it's the right thing, then... joy will follow.

And you... Yes, you, you fucking bastard. I really mean you. I promise to be there for you. Being there for each other is not as hard as everyone seems to think.

Sending strength and power in your direction,
O.