I'm in danger of being a one-note Johnny, But here goes: I think about suicide 24x7, 365 days a year. I'm just not happy, and sooooo lonely. I don't write anymore, for lot's of reasons. I won't kill myself before Grendel and my Father die. I don't have many friends here. I never have any money; in great part because of my iTunes addiction, but also because I never have any idea of how much is in my account. I don't need to be the "big spender from the East" but I'd like to be able to pay my own way. It's just not right, that I don't. And treat, occasionally.
Arguing for my independence with my trust lords has gotten really old, really fast. See, I’m like a poor man’s Brittany Spears: all my money is in a special needs trust, dispensed as need be by my Trustees: Gil Roth and Peter Johnson. Gil, I’ve been friends with since St. John’s. Peter does this for a living, & cuts me a world of always legal and ethical slack. More tomorrow. Nighty-night.
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