So what are my thoughts these days? What is my life these days? Am I resigned to dying on my 34th birthday?
I don’t care about much. My life doesn’t mean very much. It really isn’t going anywhere worth living past 34. I’ve said it all before already. I’m not here for the same reason as most people – to live this life, to ascribe to some normative matrix that defines what we’re supposed to do between birth and death.
Career doesn’t mean anything to me. Friends, I don’t feel I really have any friends. Love, love is insignificant at this point. Music, it’s just a distraction. The family website is worth while, it’s not for me, it’s for descendants, and I think I can lay the appropriate groundwork for the website by the time I’m 34 and done.
I don’t need to move out of this apartment, I don’t need to move out of this city. I don’t need to change jobs, I don’t need to find the perfect band, I don’t need to write songs, I don’t need to figure out all the loose ends. I just need to make it to my 34th birthday and know what I want to accomplish by then.
