I have a lot on my mind...

The only thing more weird than reaching 67 years-old, is to suddenly be faced with the prospect that you might, very easily, become one of those homeless old men, wandering the streets, looking for dinner in dumpsters. If Social Security checks don’t go out on the first of next month, that’s where I’m apt to be. I was so proud of myself for maintaining a $1000 cushion in my account for fifteen years. Then, suddenly, it was gone, eaten up by the decline of the dollar, the increase in bank fees, and general slow attrition of a decade without salary. I know it’s impolite to write about money, especially in a world where so many are in so much more frightening circumstances than I. But I find myself waking up each morning with my mind trapped in an anxiety loop. It’s exhausting to spend the first three hours of every day climbing back to a level of objective nonchalance. I have to get it out of my system before I can write about anything else.