I don’t know why I can’t be purely happy for him. It’s petty but I can’t squelch it. Right now I would love if I had the presence of mind to be all, Well, shit, if anyone’s going to get paid playing some goon it may as well be someone I love, but I can’t. I can’t even tell what part of my queasiness is being mad at him or being mad at me that I’m mad at him.
