I dunno man, I think I might just make it. I really thought I'd be dead by now, and if not, i'd be miserable. Turns out...not the case. Shit's working out, I'm working (need to start working out though), and I've got a place to live for like, the next 30 years or so. Absolutely bonkers.
Find myself on the verge of something great. Much of my time is paying off, I'm becoming good at being me after 40 years. My mental situation seems to have righted itself and besides this grease filled body, I'm probably all around better off than ever.
This time I don't think bad is around the corner, waiting to take my milk money. I could piss for the pope, my resume keeps getting more dense, this bank account isn't in danger. Growing old is kinda neat.
There are tweaks to be made, minor adjustments which aren't mission critical yet. I can certainly do better. But, I'm not projecting downward and my momentum can carry me through a dip. Hell, even my sobriety is contagious.
Come get you some Bastard, I'm playing all the hits these days.
This ship I'm in is going down, and going down Q U I C K. My peers have either been here for 16 years or 16 months. They both look at me as an other. I drink the kool-aid, but only a little. There is no home for me here; no perfect role for me to fill. This has been a square peg in a round hole for many years and frankly, I'm ready for this to stop.
Bring me excitement and uncertainty. Give me new things to manipulate and mess with. My current situation doesn't allow for failure or mistakes. They'd just as soon cut you off than let you learn or get better. I'm sick of trying to explain Detroit work ethic and grit to dropouts from California.
Tools and machines are awesome. Being able to understand them is enviable. Stop trying to be so goddamned smart all the time and actual build something. Thinking harder instead of working harder just makes you a student, not a producer.
Go ahead and buy me a Coney, I fucking dare you.