I am nurturing a tender melancholy as of late, something so diminished from the burly depressions I've known in the past that it barely registers ... but still, my heart beats sluggishly and I'm prone to fits of nostalgia for times that I'm relieved are long gone. People I miss desperately but never call or write to. Places I never want to see again but wish I had the option of avoiding. I know I'm exceedingly typical in this kind of ennui, particularly at my pre-middle age state, but there we are, most of us anyway. It's hard to look into the future ... I looked into the future ten years ago and couldn't see anything except some murky hope. Now the future looks clear, and that's the problem. I see desks and buses, diets and eyeglasses. More money, but at a terrible price. At least I still look good ... I see myself aging gracefully, growing distinguished and even dashing in the eyes of certain women with particular tastes. Yes, I will be that guy. Is that the best I have to look forward to?