For me depression is when my inflated ego meets the real me and becomes as disappointed as a school girl who upon meeting her boy band idol realizes he is a selfish sleazy drunken womanizer.

I got hit with a sudden panic attack starting last night through yesterday about my sudden fear of my loss of bachelorhood. I didn’t get this when Sarah and I got married. It started on Tuesday when I was trying to make some Captivate movies and needed to find an XML RSS feed. I went to feedster and started looking through the Red Sox blogs. I was happy to see that people were going to be able to purchase turf from the World Series for $150 but then I started to hit some web sites. I happed upon some website of a twenty-something woman blogging about the Red Sox from a location down the street in Brookline, Basegirl. I then started surfing from there to her favorite sites including The girl in Camo and This fish needs a bicycle. Then my mind started to go into a cloud of anxiety as I realized that the world outside is still moving around with women bustling about hustling men and vice-versa. Or I panicked that my blog was getting a thousandth of the traffic (not like I’ve tried to build traffic) of a blog about some girl who writes about the Red Sox. Should I just write about the Red Sox? Nobody reads my crap? Who cares? What the hell? Why do I write?

I went onwards down the spiral. At dinner on Tuesday Jeremy was there with Sarah and me at Vinny T’s yammering about his sex life and how he was bored with sex and all of his one night stands with Internet girls. Sara was talking about how nice the grotto would be at the Playboy mansion and that I should send my parents pictures of it as a model for the hot tub area in Marshfield. Jeremy hit me with some dagger about never having left Boston and living a few miles from my parents house. That isn't about the change any time soon.

The cups at Vinny T’s had shrunken from better days so the drinks were smaller. They didn’t even do the shake the wine bottle with little chips in it to win a free meal game. Things have gone down hill at Vinny T’s. The maitre d woman who seated us was on the job for the first night and she was flirting with me and I was flirting with her and it was clear that in another world or time that I would have been obsessing over her for months. But I have a pregnant wife and we went home to watch Raising Helen, a movie I had already seen on a plane and hated the first time about a New York socialite who has to raise her sister’s orphaned children. That’ll cheer anyone up in the middle of a panic attack but the worst was suffering through the scenes with the models, New York parties, exclusive clubs.

So I didn’t get much sleep. I woke-up early in the morning. I went through some meetings and then drove out to Burlington. During the drive I listened to an interview with Brett Easton Ellis who wrote Less than Zero, American Psycho, The Rules of Attraction on NPR. He was talking about his new book that is a horror novel that fictionalized his abusive relationship with his father. Mr. Ellis felt that the reason that the father had become abusive was because he had never really wanted to become a father but had gotten caught-up in the late ‘50s, early ‘60s pressure to become the family man and would have preferred a single life like the one Mr. Ellis was leading. Ellis wrote Less Than Zero when he was in his teens. So I’m thinking about myself as a writer and dragging a mile behind basegirl and the girl in camo because I lack a specific subject to write about and don’t have the same anatomy to intrigue the reader about my thoughts. So I must be about 100 miles behind Mr. Ellis in a 26 mile race to reach some kind of constructive synthesis of creation. And with Less than Zero and having watched 16 Candles I was back in the ‘80s swimming in the regret of not having been confident enough to ask out the twenty girls I had a crush on in high school.

Hunter S. Thompson had a funeral and I wasn't invited. I am mad that he is dead through a suicide and nobody knows why he killed himself. I am mad because the gonzo journalism died and was reborn as drugged out teen Internet bloggers around the world writing the same drivel as me are turning the world into a big annoying cyber-attic to store crap.

We had our best day in terms of sales ever at VP with three $49 orders coming in over the Internet. This was a good thing but I could watch the downloads and they were going down already. Maybe we peaked at $147? I was in a funk and tired from lack of sleep so it was hard to appreciate. By the time I got to improv I was ready to sleep or crawl under some object. I did a scene as a miserable hot dog vendor who hated his job and life. But Joan had brought her baby Henry and that perked me up a bit. I later managed to do some scenes that woke me up. I got some email from Stephanie about a mother who had died of cancer.

I have a lot of nervous self-doubt questions sometimes and I was thinking that as a person I don’t ever get satisfied or stop asking questions. I can see the appeal of God and the church since people are in this nagging dull pain of questioning themselves and their decisions and their lives. So when you are in pain you can always turn to the people who claim to have the solution.

The church says – “Just listen to us and we have the answers. You won’t be lost anymore. You won’t even need to ask the questions anymore. It will all be good from here on out if you stay on this path.” But as an atheist and a masochist I’ll stay on my route. I talked to Sarah’s belly for 30 minutes last night. She is coming into my world very soon so that could be the cause of all the panic.

Change is never a comfortable feeling but hopefully once it has worked it’s way through me then I can be calm and happy again.