Now don’t go saying that you understand me. Don’t try telling me that “things will get better,” and I don’t want to hear any of that “today is the first day of the rest of my life” crap. Oh, what’s the use?

What? You say things would be different if I’d just lighten up? You’re saying that I should just take in a good concert, like Nada Surf or Pinback? If only it was that simple.

I’ll have you know it’s not easy being a pessimist. You have to plan for everything. You have to expect the unexpected. Take Jimmy Buffett, for example. I’d love to see his show, but I know that he’s just looking for an excuse to beat the living tar out of me. Musicians and their fans are like that. Him and his freakin’ parrotheads. They’re just waiting for the chance to throw me down between the seats, stomp on my poor little head and pelt me with empty Budweiser cans until my face looks worse than a Clydesdale’s behind after a heavy meal of chili and oats. Is it any wonder I’m a pessimist?

Paranoid? Me? I think not. Paranoia is a fear of imagined threats, like alligators in the microwave or getting caught standing behind a New York publicist’s SUV. I understand the difference between real and perceived dangers. I know they’re all out to get me. You name the band, whether it’s Cowboy Junkies or The Motels Feat. Martha Davis, they’re all waiting for their chance to get a piece of me.

But things are going to change. I’ve learning to live with my pessimism. Starting today, I’m ridding myself of the excess baggage that prevents me from seeing a great concert like Janet Jackson or The Disco Biscuits. I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m leaving all my troubles behind. I’m even changing jobs. Yes, today may be the worst day of the rest of my life but tomorrow will be different. Just you wait and see. “Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomorrow…”

Because tomorrow some other poor schmuck is gonna replace me as CEO of Napster.