Last week at soccer, I was getting Older Son ready. Next to us, Daddy Douchebag—$400 sunglasses, a sweater with Lamborghini on it ,and, I shit you not, capri pants—and older brother, Chip, watched younger brother warm up. The kid did something awkward with his ball and Daddy D-Bag and Chip laughed at him.
Then D-Bag called the young kid stupid. In that defendable way. Just joking kind of stuff.
On May 7th I was officially evicted from my apartment for unpaid rent. On that same day I probably spoke to the trustee handling my bankruptcy and may also have spoken to my agent to say there was no joy in making television for me presently and that I was looking for a new career.
Now it is the last day in May and the hardest, most productive chapter of my life thus far draws to a close tomorrow morning. The next chapter opens in September with a new apartment, new career, new love, new perspective.
