I'm not dying yet. I have to kill quite a few men first.

I'm so going cuckoo-fucking-bonkers with cabin fever. The Ikea yurt is actually contracting around me which is odd as I didn't think it could get smaller. I'm so bored. I was actually amused by a commercial on TV for "Planet Of The Apes" because they used the Beastie Boy's "Brass Monkey" for the commercial soundtrack. I guess that is kind of funny.

It's back to work tomorrow for me and I'm not too excited because of the leg. I've been putting on a brave bullshit front with the production peeps that keep calling me. I'm a little worried but the only thing to do is get back to work and tell people to chill and give me the time I need. That's what they should have done anyway, if they had I probably wouldn't be fucked up right now. The good thing, the exciting thing, the thing that is going to help me get up and eat my corn flakes and go to work, is that tomorrow is the beginning of the last week on this damn job. I can almost smell my couch and taste a cold beer at the Lodge and feel the sand beneath my bare feet and the sun in my face. I do so want to get the hell out of here and worship at the feet of sweet, sweet Cali.

Nine days and counting down, people. Prepare for the return, you know Bible-style, maybe some sacrificial goats or something. A parade of slaves and booty? Maybe keep it simple, meet me for a drink and some pizza at the Lodge.