Here I am, 37 years old, wondering where the hell the time has gone. Sometimes I think I should invent a fuckup detector. It could bleep through the timelines and show you exactly where you fucked up. That would be free- fixing the fuckup would cost $99.95 (this week only!) I’d make a mint! But then wouldn’t all the web of possibilities in the multiverse become ensared, some pruned, some twisting back upon themselves? But if there’s an infinite number of possibilities, would one or two less matter? How do you define infinity -1? Of course while possibilities are infinite, probabilities are not. (Yes, this is what I lie in bed thinking about.)
Time just keeps slipping by. I think of Pink Floyd. “And then one day you find, ten years have got behind you…” Or I think of Mister Dark in Something Wicked this Way Comes, tearing the years of my life away, page by page.
Well I don’t mean to be depressing or anything, I’ve just been introspective today. Thank you so much to all my friends for all your birthday wishes. Here’s to another year of beating the reaper!