The anniversary yesterday is still with me; its shadows at least. I don’t see my life prior through rose-colored glasses by any means, but I do severely miss my poverty-stricken autonomy. Yeah, I’m a millionaire, but that seems to have lessened, not increased my actual freedom, as you/I might envision/hope.
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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