There are times when I find myself in this sad sort of peace. It’s hard to describe I suppose. It’s like… serenity with a bit of exhaustion, tinged with acceptance, with melancholy added to taste -and perhaps the slightest pinch of contentment. The odd part is the fact that there isn’t really a concrete reason why.
The sketch show has come and past, as has another room to improv show. I have much to say that will probably fall in line with my psuedo-series on the essence of comedy.
I feel myself falling back into real life.
Perhaps that’s part of my concrete reason. I can’t shake the feeling, though, that there’s more to it.
Actually I know there’s more to it. I’m just unwilling to share. Take that, faceless throng.