I have a cold.

Why oh why now? Haven't I suffered enough!?

I just felt like bitching. Go back to what you were doing.

My shrink wrote a note for me to take to my work mediation. When he gave it to me, I didn't look at it. When I did, almost a week later, I realized that I couldn't read all of his writing; of course that is of no surprise.

Basicly, I asked for a note that would say that apathy could be one of the side effects of the antidepressents I'm taking.

What it looks like is "Apathy & levation maybe a side effect of ... medication."

So, I can fly but I don't care.

Cobb's closed last night (rather this morning) and it was a weird time. After the show I moved around the room looking at the club from all angles. I couldn't feel anything. I think it was too big. I got small waves of sadness but nothing big.

Thirteen years I've been going to that club, I've made friendships there that are beyond what I thought I was capable of. When I started going there I was pretherapy, preantidepressents, preself-worth. That club was a huge part of who I've become. I was more welcomed there than I am was anywhere. It was the one of the first places that I could really call my own.

I know the club will be opening in a few months in a new location but the old club is dear to me.

I expected to be in tears the whole night, but I was fine until we were leaving. The marquee was empty. I managed to make it across the street and turn back. It was after 3am and the lights in the Cannery courtyard were off. It was dark and dead with a sign offering no future.

The tears that came weren't the torrent that I expected but it was the beginning of grieving. Tara put her arm around me started crying too. As we walked toward the car Brian put his arm around me.

Cobb's Comedy Club in the Cannery was a bonding place, laughter, friendship, growth, and acceptance. No matter how wonderful the new new club will be, or how many good times are in the future, all the energy from past shows will stay at the Cannery like happy ghosts giggling in the shadows.

I wrote an entry 12 hours ago which Blogger decided wasn't good enough to post, or even keep. It didn't say much but now it's gone.

The new antidepressents are making me think that this is a life lesson. There are no guarantees, it's all in motion, it's all on a swinging tightrope and we're too high for a net to be of any help. All the pretty words, all the good intentions, all the love in the end, they are all gone.

And yet I remember I wrote a post, I remember it was at 1am, I remember that. Can that count for more than I think? I hope so.

We are all memories.