Lately it occurs to me

I turn 56 in four hours and 37 minutes. I feel young, yet I look old.

I should look a lot worse considering that I spent 20 years “out there” on the booze trail. My liver is good. My love life is good. My kids are good (or at least I am not catching them at anything; never did). I have more to be thankful for than I do to bitch about.

I hope that I live to be one hundred. I like old age. I don’t fuck up like I used to. I have not seen the inside of a jail cell, or mental institution, in almost 23 years, which just happens to coincide with how long it has been since I have taken a drink. I have good friends: on here, and in the “real” world. I have Joan, the dogs, the cats, the turtles, and the bird. What more could a man want?

June 19, 2013