It's just like a tea party, except there's no party and no tea.
There's no point in pretending any longer: I'm depressed. Whether it's just a fit of the seasonal blues or my ol' buddy clinical depression making its continuous presence known more forcefully than usual, it's here.
I'm just not finding joy in much of anything right now. I'm reluctant to go out - though, admittedly, I don't really have anywhere to go. After this weekend's one-act committee meeting I won't be seeing anyone other than 9/11 people for weeks, perhaps a month or more. And the Truthers are Richard's crowd, not mine. They tolerate me with poorly concealed suspicion. And, frankly, I find most of their conversations circular and dull. If not outright stupid. A new girlfriend of one Truther said she's tired of being a "like, a prawn" in the corporate system - please, please tell me she just misspoke!! I don't think she did, but tell me anyway. Please tell me she doesn't think she's going to be butterflied or deep-fried, or thrown into a scampi, by the Powers That Be.
Some more volunteer work might be the answer, but of course it's hard to work up the enthusiasm for that when I'm depressed.