Musing

I contend with an omnipresent sense of deadness.

I’m hungry for people. I’m hungry for Jude.

I want you. Forever.

First impressions matter. For a reason.

I love working out with hot women. And I long to keep the evidence I have done so. But I won’t.

Shame is such an uncomfortable sensation.

In which I unleash my manic desire for women in service of my physical fitness.

In 2021, I aspire to write more.

I have a meditation practice. This morning, I revisited a slightly deeper part of that practice. To excellent effect.

I feel some – but only a little – empathy for Jeffrey Toobin.