“Ever think you’re thirsty and you realise that what you’re feeling is longing?”

Ever been dying and know nothing else matters?

You could be a Presbyterian and not a Christian.

A piece of peanut butter taffy.

Or joke that Qaddafi and the Norwegian mass murderer are both big fans of Coco Chanel.

Stop being hard on myself and keep writing, making amateur movies, getting sunburned, bitten by mosquitoes/ticks and not feel bitter about what was, enjoying what is and let what might be, be.

Time for a nap.  There’s plenty of time for dying tomorrow.

Or the next day.

Or whenever the cells can no longer fight off high blood pressure and plaque.

Then play with Ubuntu.

And post another section of novel.

Life, what’s left of mine, at least, is good.