I’ve been spending a lot of time alone. My cats sometimes there but he’s taken a shine to a lady friend so he’s not in most of the time. I try to write but most of the time the thought that I thought doesn’t survive on the trip to my computer.
Sometimes I think about time and how people get old and die so fast and at the same time time stretches away to eternity. I can’t find the time to get anything done but at the same time it’s never ending.
I was watching Bishop Sr. getting stoned and I thought it was astounding how old and young he is. Old because he is and young because he… is. I’m not making any sense, but I already know that.
I often wonder how I would have turned out if I had a purpose in life and I don’t know, partially because I’ve already covered it before. When I was young I wanted to be a paleontologist, then a pilot, and when my eyesight failed me I wanted to become a pianist. After my father and my headmistress laughed at my plans I wanted to become a writer. I’m still trying.
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