It goes like this.

I spent the entire summer alternating rather violently between being miserable and ecstatic. I tried to explain to Shelby with a diagram that didn't turn out very well, so I drew another one:

Figure A.

So if you are so far off the Crazy Cliff that you've fallen off and are plunging to your watery death on the pointy rocks below, you're so far beyond misery that it's ECSTASY! Not the same kind of ecstasy as when you are still safe from the edge of the Crazy Cliff and holding hands with Joseph Gordon-Levitt (see Figure A), but a kind of ecstasy nonetheless. The kind that comes with knowing that something is going to give. The kind of freedom that comes with knowing that whatever will happen will happen, and whether you grow wings on the way down or hit the rocks like a sack of rotting tomatoes, you will not be miserable for long.


And that is why I am going on a mini-break until at least this weekend.

I am miserable. I am miserable, and I cannot find the edge of the cliff.

Or Joseph Gordon-Levitt.

Fuck my life.
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