We�re still trying to get the sizing of the strip right, �bear with us�.

Yes, I know nothing is happening in today�s strip, but there�s pacing and foreshadowing to develop. And I�m working on other things right now that need intensive plotting. So there. In today�s foray into literature, we have Kurt�s internal journal concerning his journey to San Francisco. Assuming I can write it without getting annoyed.
* * *
Okay, that�s not working. So I shall complain about the music down here. Techno sucks. Let me say that again: TECHNO SUCKS.

Okay, fine, everyone has a different environment in which they can relax and be productive, so the question is �do I need to find one?� And yes, I believe I do. Because techno sucks and I don�t have earplugs, and I�m working on 4 hours of sleep because G.A. is a pain in the ass and wants me to wake up at stupid hours like �the morning� and several of my friends have been having emotional issues and I worry about them and I worry about how I�m going to get the money or whatnot that I need to survive this next month in time for it to be useful and whether I�ll be able to make enough for next month and the month after and I have social anxiety even though I have to go out into public where all the crowds of people are and I have to keep my stress under control even when people are pestering me like little kids and I know one day I�m going to wake up in a hospital because the diabetes that runs in my family will finally show itself whether I can afford medical costs or not and everywhere I look I see people kissing and cuddling and telling someone how much they�re in love while here I am 24 and a half and still single and a virgin and bereft of romantic prospects and it�s getting cold and I�ve always hated the cold and my feet hurt because it�s as good as impossible to find size 15 shoes for anything even approaching a reasonable price and I can�t think of anything really worth writing and Alex is asking me questions that really have no safe answers if I don�t want to hear his voice edge up into screeching frequencies and I just want a break, a real break, where I don�t have to think about the land mass upon which I live edging ever closer to annihilation because some self-important, stuck-up prick is afraid people won�t remember to worship him and his retard daddy when he dies and I just know I�m forgetting something. Fortunately, the strip is the only thing that really needs to be put up, so I am going to sleep now.

Maybe I�ll get to the journal later in the story.

ps