I think about the things some people have accomplished at my age.
I can’t even get my ass to the tattoo parlor and commit to my idea.
At least there was some snow for my birthday.
and lots a fuckin chocolate.
And then I laugh at the futility of so many the things we humans do.
All the wasted time and space and materials.
suddenly accomplishments look like skeletons, remains of our vain pursuits.
shit, who ate all the chocolate?
Handel’s Messiah nearly put me to sleep today…