Indeed it is so that as the days go past the only things that seem to increase are my age and trepidation. If anything I find that the older I get the more hesitant I’ve become, as though I need to walk as carefully as possible lest my next step be the one that shatters the glass staircase that is my life.

I would not say that I long for my childhood, but I would say that knowledge has only made me worse off over the years.  I finished reading “the last continent” by terry practhett earlier, another discworld book, and I found myself relating to Rincewind. I found myself relating to Rincewind. Let me try that out one more time. I FOUND MYSELF RELATING TO RINCEWIND. It’s not a great thing.

There’s not a lot of point in thinking about it though, I’ve always been the type to know just what the right thing is, or at least to realize when I shouldn’t be doing something, and to go on anyway.

The Last Continent was pretty amusing by the way. I’m always up for ripping on australians and I think that I caught most of the references but quite possibly not all. I knew somebody who lived there for a long time but wasn’t born there. Maybe I technically still know that person, I’ve never been sure when, after being out of contact for years, you’re supposed to switch from “know” to “knew”. And does it change if you could still get in touch with that person if you had any desire to? I don’t know.