Simplicity, It Seems, Has Always Been Wasted

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.

I Have Managed To Establish An Identity That Is Based On My Internal Self, And For That I Feel Tremendously Lucky.

Well Into Adulthood, Writing Has Never Gotten Easier. It Still Only Ever Begins Badly, And There Are No Guarantees That This Is Not The Day When The Jig Is Finally Up.

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.

I Had A Tumor. But It Was Great.