I write this as my 1,000 year old neighbor is throwing an absolute rager tonight.

A couple days from now will be a whole year my dad has been gone.

Honestly, the year has been a free fall.

An identity crisis.

Trying to figure out who appreciates you.

A creepy Uber driver in Santa Barbara once asked me to “Define Love”.

To which I replied, “Well, it depends… there’s the way you love your friends, there’s the way you love your family. And there’s romantic love. And probably a bunch of other kinds I’m not thinking of.”

Do you ever think so deeply that you end up getting lost?

You feel like your free falling ?

And you get so anxious.

Because at any moment your gonna hit the floor.

Well. Fucking fuck. Am I right?

I think that’s why I can’t write lately.

I’m anxious.

Zero sense of security.

Putting your best foot forward is the only thing you have control of.

How you react to the things that happen to you — you have control of.

But sometimes I don’t want to control anything.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if good things happen sporadically?

A wild thought.