Summer is almost over.

How many summers do I have left? (Tom Waits asks that in the Francis For Coppola movie"The Outsiders") As I become increasingly obsessed with the passage of time, why is it that I can't see anything positive?  What the fuck is happening in this country? The burden of Summer is that it is the time when you are supposed to have fun and enjoy yourself, but there is an obvious time limit, so you better make the most of it, because the looming dread of Winter quickly approaches.  Hurry up and  fucking make something of the beautiful damn weather you fucking putz!  Run outside and FUCKING BE HAPPY! What do you do if you can't see anything ahead that is even remotely enjoyable? What do you do then?

Friends are dying. I can't go see them or I will self destruct. My mother is old and seeing her makes me sad. I fear my bad mood has infected my loved ones.

Doug Henning says it's all an illusion.