Today I turn 38 years old.
I’ve spent the last 1065 days living out of a bag and off of the good graces of the world around me.
And honestly I don’t know what I think of it.
All I know is that I had a drive, and idea, I use to call it a dream and the word itself has the connotation of something magical and lovely, it does have that aspect I won’t deny, but it is infinitely more complicated than that.
Charles Bukowski, said it best when he said,
I use to read those words and and think, “fuck yeah!”
Now I look at them with a new understanding, there is no rebel yell begging to escape my lips but rather a silent affirmation, I understand Bukowski, I understand.
Things are good, bad, beautiful, and ugly and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Life is short and complicated and to precious to waste with too much introspection, there’s still a good chunk of road ahead of me and plenty of dances to have with new friends.
I’m pretty excited to be turning 38, to still be on the road, and to be sharing my adventure with you, thanks for following along and happy birthday to me.
I love you and you love me!
The road is long and full of expenses, want to keep me, and you out on the road?
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