In the end, we all die. Unless you change.

Four months since I almost died for nothing and I haven’t had a drink. Things are exactly where they need to be at this point.

It kind of came as a shock to me  when my life flashed before my eyes and all I could muster was a weak, “No.” A plaintive and pointless cry into the abyss followed by lights out and pain of various and sundry types. I saw my son playing baseball but he was an adult. I saw my daughter crying but couldn’t tell how old she was. I saw my wife smoking a cigarette and laughing. I was dead, of course, and sorely saddend by that fact as I was causing pain and missing so much life.

It’s four months later and I meditate, work, skate, and try to be present for those around me. It’s not easy as I feel myself changing while several around me seem dead set on staying the same. I have no control over any of it but that is o-fucking-k and simply the way of the world.

I heard Bill wither’s “Lovely Day” while skating and dedicated it to my skateboard, one of the few constants in my life. Make of that what you will.

When Griff and I were little, we went to school in the same sea. And the master was an old turtle; we used to call him "tortoise."

I often look at the turtle and realize that he and the dog are remnants of my past life and I love them so much more for that fact. Of all the things in life that are ephemeral they have, despite themselves and their biology, remained constants for me. I've often been told to ditch them both but that will never happen. I will, one day, bury them both (perhaps they'll witness my burial and curse my name) and sing drunken songs of their glory and worth. I hope on that day I will finally become a man.