I am reminiscing tonight as I oft do when I am feeling low, and I happened to recall the story of The Worst Wing-Man Ever.
If you follow this blog (and again, why the hell would you?) you know that I went on a trip to a country where hallucinogens are readily available to do a little mind expansion retreat. Here is what I learned.
Just what the title says. I’d give a more detailed summary, but I have a train to catch.
2019 has arrived as inevitably as planned. Wherever you are, I hope the new year has been treating you well. For me, it is yet another reminder of the cold hand of death closing ever so slowly around my throat, but hey — that’s part of the fun, right?
Be forewarned: This is a space-filler post as I really have nothing to say today. I just haven’t blogged in a while. I had some laptop issues this month.
Do we choose what our interests are, or are our interests the product of our experiences? Or are we just hard-wired with a preprogrammed attraction to certain topics? I have no idea. And that is not the topic of this post. This post is about my problem. And my problem, as I have recently come to realize, is largely due to my interests. Read this one. It’s weird, and it’s personal.