I mean, my life has gone from one therapy wheel to another the last 15 years. Now that my most recent tour of Moss duty is over, I need to replace it with something, but what? As it stands, my life is a big, empty void. Butch's tendency is to fill it up with crap ... but I think just the opposite tact is artfully, desperately needed. I need the hollowness of the void that is/has become my life, to echo with the empty reverberations of my desires and achievements. And find out, what's next?
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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