That always frightens me, no matter how I look at it.  Either I live to be that old, or I don’t make it which makes me realize my time is even more limited.

What?  Am I saying anything that’s not true?

Write faster and more wild, about everything… find humor in everything and everyone.  Especially myself.  How I worry so much I subtract actual living, life.

Kids in other room playing, letting me work a bit.  Think they’re watching a cartoon or something. I need to watch more cartoons, be more kid-like.  This adult thing is dumb.