This was the word that came to me at 6am. I just did some yoga and I feel a little better right now. I heard that depression has a hard time hitting a moving target.

Was listening to the Al Madrigal interview on the Comedy and Everything Else podcast. Al was complaining about doing stand up. It's hard to do the road. He's got kids at home. His career isn't as far along as it should be. What's the reason to care? He cares too much.

Jimmy said that it sounded like Al was in the first phase of depression.

I guess I was depressed as a kid. That was my constant question through high school, what does anything matter? I could never understand the reason why people liked to watch sports so much. Who gives a fuck. I could never get myself to care.

Then I find myself in some midlife crisis, starting a talk show, yet feeling tied down to a wife and kids and then just falling deeper in the hole.

OK so depression has a tough time hitting a moving target. So I just did yoga and before that I cleaned up the house. Keep moving.

My fingers are moving now.

What comes out is not my problem. All I need to be concerned with is that my fingers are moving.


My inner workings of a life. My inner mind of a demon. My intuition is stuffed down like a pillow to the face and my depression is trying to suffocate any light. Open my eyes and I'm dreaming in. I'm focused on nothing. I'm clear around nothing and this is the place of ghosts. The place where I'm frightened to go is the place downstairs. Keep the light on in the hallway. Keep talking to me. I know the book by heart. Before you hit me can I tell you something? I love you. Fuck. I'm sick. My friends are here and fun is abound. I don't want to go to sleep. Let's stay up all night. Frightened by the killing film? I'm not. You're a dork.

Why would I publish such a thing? I'm going for 90 days. After 90 maybe I will feel better.

I have nothing to say. I'm saying nothing loud.

Fuck off and stop reading this as I publish it to the world. Deep down is the sickness deep down is the truth that no one can ever see not even me. It's too real.

Cry yourself to sleep and then never cry again. Repeat this for generations. Am I an animal? Is this the reasoning for my lack of I don't know. Calling myself phony. Calling myself leader. All names can die. Clean it away. Get rid of everything. Throw it all away it has no use for you.

OK enough with the depression. ok more depression.

What does that fucked up voice in my head say? (I'm just giving him some time)

Fuck you Duke. Stab yourself Duke. You suck Duke. People think you are a phony. You are one of those guys that just wants to become famous. So much so that you turn people off. You want to take short cuts. You want to ride the coattails of people on their way up. You can't do it on your own so you want to piggyback. You are not real. You are not a real number one fan. You just want a free ride. You are a fake. You have no talent. You are a fraud. You are a fake. What are you doing? You are ridiculous. You are a thief. A lier. Selfish. A joke. Stupid. Old. Your life is wasted. Fuck you. Why try? You will fail. You are a failure. Your entire life proves that you are a failure. You're fat. You don't have what it takes to do anything you think you can do. You just can't do it. Fuck off.

OK enough of that.

I can do some stuff. I can write and do yoga everyday for over 40 days. I can do stand up each week. I can write every morning. I can play with my kids. I can make them laugh. I can have fun with my wife. She is beautiful. My children are beautiful. And they are both really funny. I love my family. I can help my son with his homework. I can read stories. I can go swimming, on bike rides and walks with my kids. I can make people laugh. I love to laugh. I love to have fun.