I dunno, I don't think using this blog as my shrink is really doing the trick. Still haven't slept or eaten in, what, 36 hours? What I really need is that doohickey I just saw in the ad for that new Ben Affleck movie - some kinda memory-eradication apparatus. That would be handy, although like all futuristic inventions that seem like a really good idea, I suppose there are unintended Twilight Zone-y consequences, and I'd probably just end up stuck in an endless loop reliving the very memories I'm trying to escape. So - no futuristic memory eradication for me, thank you very much!

So I guess that means I'm stuck with my own electronic Dr. Melfi here. The regular readership of Moonshine Mountain (estimated to reach well into the single digits) may recall my little tribute to Thanksgiving, which I also used as an excuse to bash New Year's Eve, always my least favorite holiday (and highly likely to remain so as we ring in ought-four, all the pundits agree). Of course, this is the time of looking back and assessing whether it was good year, a bad year or just another year, and the arbitrariness of this is especially maddening here in the waning days of 2003. Because you can't just count the good days, count the bad days and see how it all weighs up in the end. As with the Oscar race, the first eleven and a half months of the year really don't count. I mean, sure, objectively I probably actually had more good days than bad this year, but once everything goes to shit, most folks don't have the ability to say, "Yeah, but so what? August 11th was really awesome!"

But then, I expected this. Six months ago or whatever, I just couldn't believe how sweet life had become - everything was swinging my way. A book deal, money rolling in, a great group of new friends and the girl of my dreams. And I said to myself, "Self? You know damn well where this is going, don't you? Long dark nights of blogging, that's where!"

But what are ya gonna do? As a valued associate astutely observed, summers are for love, love is for heartbreak, and deadlines are made to be broken. Six months from now everything could be different again, and if I got nothing else out of this shitty year (there, it's official), I did get my bestest friend in the whole wide world, this lovable li'l critter curled up loyally in my lap, the chihuahua-beagle mix name o' Maury. And that counts for a lot.

So, thank you for listening, Dr. Melfi. And I promise the next Moonshine Mountain post will be 100% whine-free.