I woke up today with full understanding of the hackneyed phrase "waiting for my ship to come in." I'm standing on the shore of that desert island -- the one where you get to listen to that one CD of choice for the rest of your life. My choice was Talk Talk's Laughing Stock, but, of course, someone forgot to give it to me upon my island arrival. So, I sit musicless and meaningless on a beach without rum and sunshine, waiting for sight of the masthead of purpose -- the provisions and sundries of fulfillment. I've got two choices on this island: sit and wait (for Godot or any other non-entity), or take a risk and swim for my ship and don't wait for the fucking thing. Oh, it's cool that God helps those who help themselves, but c'mon, these two choices are just long and short versions of the same suicide. Maybe I'll hit the Panacea Lotto straight on the head (or maybe the Club Med corp comes and buys me out). Then, I won't be depressed any longer -- I'll just be rich and depressed...

http://tqed.com/ -- a storage house for my writes and rewrites of different takes of the same depression.

While waiting for life that sucks to die, why not listen to my favorite unsigned bands: TQ's Garage Band Playlist.