even famous funnymen get sad, and i think that joey must miss us here in portland. i don't think it was raining the night of his reading, so he probably still thinks that portland is the bright and shiny potency festival that everyone else does. he probably doesn't suspect that the rains are back and that apollo doesn't come through here very often so the festival tends to get claustrophobic and incestuous. even so, i guess he gets depressed about it. the rains are back and portland is feeling down too. we can share that. joey thinks, "there should be more blogs about dealing with depression when you're stupid and worthless," so he wrote a, "self help blog entry." i agree with joey's mission, but i don't think that if i took his advice and rode the bus to wherever it took me then laid down and waited to die that he'd be the one to miss me.
Really, think about it. If you went out to the middle of nowhere and just sat down in a ditch and cried by yourself until you were dead, who would be the first person to wonder where you'd gone? Call them up!
and so i wouldn't call up joey and invite him to ice cream. i don't have joey comeau's phone number, even if he did sign my book in two places. lying there, wherever the bus took me, i'd also know that joey couldn't possibly get that depressed up there in toronto because he's sleeping with the married creator of dinosaur comics.
it's true, though, there should be more blogs about dealing with depression when you're stupid and worthless. the problem isn't that people don't want to share the cure, it's that they probably forget about sharing it once they've shared in it. and that blogging seems counterproductive when the goal is drinking alone. but i forgot that beer is expensive in canada. i guess i could settle for ice cream. hey, joey: we could go together when i make it to toronto. we may not be each other's first choices, but we could talk about how no one gets our jokes.
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