I write. I breathe. I write some more. And today, I sleep. Rest is really important as you age. Your mind is the most complex part of the human body, we've got to take good care of it, inside and outside. What we feed it intellectually, nutritionally, and spiritually. If you're merely tiktoking your days away, well, there's not going to be much left behind for you to enjoy, resolve, swim in the memories of yesterday. Just, don't die. Ever.
I write to make sure my ideas never die. Will they be read by anyone? No telling. I'm doing what I can to influence that. In the library of congress, thiry years from now, I want another 30 books to be in my canon. Loosen the words, we've got another book to put in the library I'm spinning out for you as fast as I can.
I write to convey. I write to show you. I write to give voice to the things I am too afraid to say in real life. Except, I'm getting a lot better, having written them down, in knowing what I am willing to fight about, and what I am willing to let flow under the bridge like a fall New England spring, cold, brash, sparkly, and hopeful.
If anything, I intend to convey hope. Even when the story is unresolved by me, my hope is you can resolve it inside yourself. That's the part of the process I need you for: to read.
Thank you.
