DoktaKra.com

Before we get to the semi-weekly update and therapy session, I'd like to take this time to express my disdain for all forms of public transportation.  Not only do I somehow end up getting to the station immidiately after a train has already left -- this never fails -- but the well-trained security guards feel the need to search my bag every two or three days.  Apparently I look like a terrorist in my work clothes...I'm now thinking of growing out one of those awesome Jack suicide beards.  I mean, I don't know if they think they'll find drugs or explosives, but I certainly hope they enjoy touching my sweaty gym clothes...the disgusted looks on their faces almost makes it all worth it.  Long story short, I'd like extend a sincere thank you to the NYC Transit System for senselessly wasting 20-30 minutes of my day.  I will tackle the subject of slow walkers and tourists next week...

With that out of the way, let's get down to business.  I was thinking about how strange of a feeling it is to be crazy about someone...and then suddenly be completely over that person.  The other week, I felt like I didn't want anyone else but her...and now, well, not so much.  I guess this is what normal people call, "moving on," but it was never this easy for me.  It helps that we haven't seen each other in a month (damn, time flies).  On the other hand, I've heard it feels so good loving somebody, when somebody loves you back.  That's right, I'm busting out some old school Teddy Pendergrass sh** and you can't stop me.

Speaking of live performances, I did my stand-up act at the New York Comedy Club for the first time in three years last weekend.  I didn't really bring the house down with my highly inappropriate brand of humor, but I didn't get booed off the stage, either.  I guess that should count for something.  It either confirms that I'm somewhat funny -- read: unfathomably immature when given the chance to speak freely -- or that drunk people, 10-years olds, and I all share a similar sense of humor.  As the renowned poet MF Doom once put in, "We ain't all that grown, it's still funny."