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I’m writing a book. Sort of.

I like writing. I really do. I used to do a lot more of it.

Have you ever read David Sedaris? Bill Bryson? Lewis Grizzard? ¹

Something about the idea that someone would just write a book about … whatever and it would be something YOU would find interesting.

I don’t read a lot of biographies. I’ve gone on kicks. I enjoyed the Sandra Day O’Connor one at one point in my life.

I read even less non-fiction in general. If it’s not fiction (of which I have a whole ass thing to write), it’s something instructional or weird shit like Salt or Art of Fermentation.

I don’t know why I’m mentioning all this except that I’m going to be writing more. Some of it I feel like is the kind of material I would want to collect into something at some point and it sort of looks like a book.

I guess the question is “why?”

I don’t know. I think we all have a bit of ego and I would be lying if I said I didn’t.

But that’s not why. It really isn’t.

I NEED to write and it this point in my life it just needs to be about “whatever” I need it to be about at that point. I can’t afford therapy and even if I could, I can’t find a therapist.

It might be a treatise on yacht rock. Some of it might stay in my journal. I don’t know.

What I know is I need as many outlets as possible to free up space in my head and make it through the next four years.