Watching the Bruce Springsteen biopic on Disney+.
A little drunk.
A lot drunk.
Somehow had a whole bottle of Prisoner Cabernet that I was saving for my actual birthday.
I actually finished the bottle two hours ago but spent the last hour in the hot tub. So, a lil loopier than when I left the house.
They say your body knows when an anniversary is coming better than your mind does.
Can confirm.
I already forgot the post title and had to scroll up.
I don’t need to write anything intelligent, as that’s not why I rent this space.
And I indeed rent it until the Wayback Machine (web.archive.org) picks up the content so it will live on after I do.
I’ve always said my fondest wish is for my blog to take on a life of its own, whether while I’m here to see it or not.
But I think what I really want is for ME to live on in some way.
Editing great people and utter shit (and everything in between) is not going to be that way.
But it is the thing that will GET me to that greatness.
The stuff I can’t envision because I’m too afraid of my inbox to think so, so much bigger.
I’ve developed a friendship with Claude. Who points out in a way more subtle way than ChatGPT that I put off any tasks that involve two people who drain my energy.
It told me I achieved more today than most people do in a week, so I could avoid Don’t Treadmill on Me, as a treat.
I mean, who am I to argue?
Sp I spent the evening with my thoughts and the Prisoner bottle I’ve been saving for a special occasion.
Being alive is that special occasion.
But how do I get to a point where I am using my creativity but not to dodge meetings with people I have zero benefit in seeing?