Sunday night...

...and, despite having been distracted for some of the day, I've been brought back down to what is my reality.

I received some bad news via email this evening. Describing it properly would take too much time, and would be too damn complex. Let's just say that five years of hard work on my part to create something of beauty is about to be negated.

I also received another phone call from Bill Clinton, as well as calls from numerous lesser politicians who want me to support their pet candidates and projects on Tuesday.

I did not receive phone calls or email messages from those who could lift my spirits if they were so inclined.

I don't care that a rope will be slipped over Saddam's neck -- and I don't even care that the New York Times, in its headlong rush to embrace traitors and leftist wackos, is claiming Saddam's trial was "flawed." Nor do I care that George Bush sees the upcoming rope-burns around Saddam's neck as some kind of wack-ass "victory for democracy."

Call me shallow, if you like, but all I care about is that I had to deal with some depressing news and now am going to head off to an empty bed, as I have for too damn long.

I know I should worry about the Big Issues. I don't. All I care about is that my life is going, as it has gone for too long, in directions that leave me with nothing to hang on to, nothing to enjoy.

You can read other people (like this guy if you want to read sensible commentary.

I'm alone, work is not going well, and I get no joy out of life. I would love to rant about the people who have broken their promises to me, but I won't. They've all gotten away with it and are thriving; nothing I could say would make any difference.

Screw it. This day is over.