I watched _Hedwig and the Angry Inch_ last night. Good movie, great hair, even better music. We also drank Sangria and played Trivial Pursuit. I just realized that I gave mom a Gay Christmas, since I gave her _Leaves of GRass_ by Walt Whitman, as well as my copy of _In & Out_.
Problem being that last night and this morning, I found myself in the grasp of Wintyer blues. Nothing beats the feeling of waking up in the morning and praying to every deity that you can think of of the top of your head that today be the day that you die. Kind of like living in _Invictus_ turned inside out. As much as I hated Paxil, I think I need to go back on it.