Jack is in his own world. Shutting himself off from the rest of the world as he gets over that girl and writes his next script. Jill is off having adventures in a winter wonder land that would only impress a tourist.  As I prepare for a season of cutting winds and black snow I’m planning to hunker down with the complete series of The Wire I got cheap from Amazon. But I can’t escape this feeling that something is missing.  I don’t have the drive I used to have.

At what age do we lose that? I suppose it’s different for each person. And maybe some of us never lose it. But not all of us are meant for big success. What’s more pathetic?  The guy is still trying to make it as an actor at 45 or the guy who, though disillusioned, understands his place. I’m not trying to be morbid or depressing or nothin’.  But sooner or later you gotta face facts.

I almost have to admire Jack’s hermit like nature.  He works till he’s done. Only time he comes out is for coffee. Don’t even see him go to the restroom. He must be hiding diapers or something.  And with Jill, she may be annoyingly NYC green, but there’s this excitement in her. She goes to museums and plays and street fairs.  I used to be much more like both of them. What changed?

I’m almost ready to resign. Settle down with some girl. Raise a kid and push him so hard to go after his dream while he can. Cause that shit dries up. I’d totally be the dad who beats the crap out of the other kid’s dad at a t-ball game.

–Big Mack Attack.