It's half an hour earlier, and twenty four hours later. It's a music night, but only in one ear- the other still being seduced by the endless murmur of the ocean.I walked down the beach further tonight. Past the pier. I'm sitting on a ledge about 8 feet off the sand, about two and a half feet wide, out of a building that is flat to the water. It reminds me a bit of a house in Cornwall. Or a building with houses, flats, in it. The place in Cornwall is thinner and taller, and instead of the sand, it rises out of the rock. The windows are as thin. There is no ledge in Cornwall.

But the sea, there as here, comes all the way in. During a storm, high winds, I bet they are both fantastic. I can close my eyes and see it perfectly- as perfectly as anyone can see the past. No matter what anyone says, hindsight is not 20/20. Like the entry I worte more than a year ago, back in March or April of last year ( do you people really still read this bollocks?). You can never know the outcome of an action until you do it. If I'd have taken a different turn, instead of tagging the back of a brand new Lexus, I could have gone under a truck and laminated my face to the asphalt.

I stopped acting when I was 18. Except for an acting competition I was asked to partner with someone for (which we didn't win but then she went on to win the following year with a different partner!) and an acting class I had to take to graduate (and for which I got to kiss an attractive female classmate- I think the acting coach knew I needed a script and blocking. . .), I haven't performed for anyone in almost ten years. I wonder what would have happened had I kept doing it. Would I be rich and famous by now? Or working in a horrible little restaurant somewhere, waiting on the people getting the parts I should have. Big house or homeless? Maybe I'd have gotten laid a lot more than I have. Maybe I'd have discovered the medical benefits of heroin- permanent weight problem solution.

I'll never know.

And that's okay. It has to be okay, or I should close this book, cap my pen, pause my iPod, and wade out into the beckoning waves, swim until I have no choices left to make. I'm not going to do that. As much as choices can be painful to make, I choose to keep on making them. For everyone who has been a choice, affected by them, helped with them, forced me to make them. I'll never know what could have been, but I know what is. On the beach at night, you'll find yourself, which is the hardest thing to find. Drugs, God, happiness, true love, it all comes second place to finding yourself. If you don't find that, why look for anything else? And don't use them as a substitute for yourself.