Curtains, wanks, and lonely hearts.

I'm doing a show in the fringe festival and opening night is tomorrow! It's a farce about hell and a guy who gets sent there accidentally. Satan's gotten fat. It's a wonderful show. Farce is such a glorious thing, I tell you. Along with playing a tormented soul, in two scenes I play a table. I literally have a large board with cap screwed to the underside which rests on my head and makes me the table. Now, since there's very little chance that any of you readers will be from New York and read this before my show closes, I can tell you my little joke. In the second scene I play the table in a dominatrix's bedroom. At one point there's a table cloth over me for a few minutes. Then the table cloth is ripped off the table suddenly, and what do you think I'm doing under there? Jacking off, naturally. It's a fun show.

In other news, this site got its first hit. Hello, whomever you are.

What else can I tell you... I'm still lonely, searching for the love of my life - or a good slow fuck, whichever comes first. Lately I find myself much more interested in the love than the fucking. I start getting sad when I see other couples holding hands, kissing, and all that gross stuff. Inside I want to be doing all that mushy stuff too.

Enough depressing myself. I must go sleep so that I can get up early to be on stage tomorrow afternoon. Goodnight my lovelies.