I Am Going To The Bad Place,

New York Is Breaking My Heart. I’ve Often Said That It’s Like Having A Really Interesting Boyfriend Suddenly Becoming Really, Really Into Wine, And Having To Have Endless Conversations About It.

There Are Many Things In This World That Are An Outrage, To Be Sure, But Death At Our Current Life Expectancy Doesn’t Strike Me As One Of Them. Maybe I Sound Like Some Victorian Who Felt That Forty Years Ought To Be Enough For Any Man, But One Of The Marks Of A Life Well Lived Has To Be Reaching A State Of Finally Getting It, Of Not Needing More, And Of Being Able To Sign Off With Something Approaching Peace Of Mind.

Unfortunately, There's No Greater Rhyme Or Reason As To Why It Would Be Me. And Since There Is No Answer As To Why Me, It's Not A Question I Feel Really Entitled To Ask.

I Am Neither Spontaneous Nor Ready For Anything.

Everybody's Got Something. In The End, What Choice Does One Really Have But To Understand That Truth, To Really Take It In, And Then Shop For Groceries, Get A Haircut, Do One's Work; Get On With The Business Of One's Life. That's The Hope, Anyway.