Crudely put, I have way more money than any non-bestselling author should. But it’s all in a trust that, ideally should operate in such a manner as to allow me to get back to the level of creative proficiency I would be making the most of, had I not been bashed. Sadly for me, it all operates with goal of saving my money for a life I may never live to see. Right now, I’ve given up all hope of leading even a semi-self directed life. If my life continues on it’s empty path, I’m killing myself after Grendel and my father die. I take full responsibility for the events leading up to my assault, but none for after, except for staying alive & working so hard at my recovery for so long. Most of that, the 4th & Arch Quaker Meeting lovingly gets the credit for. When I got my award from Ireland’s Injury Tribunal is is when the neutering of my free will happened.
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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