No Substance #201: Thirty Years of Nonsense

My birthday was on the weekend. I turned forty-eight. I don’t know how to explain it to you. I suppose we all feel like that after a while, like our selves and our ages are two distinct existences.

Forty-eight marks thirty years of writing. In a couple of years, in 2026, I’ll have been trying to make my living as a writer for twenty years, but it was whe…