Hardly a day goes by when I don’t think about quitting this Internet business. Hanging it up. Taking my proverbial bat and ball and going home. In my imagination, the day after I quit is a wonderful, relaxing, joyful experience.
I reconnect with old friends, walk on the beach, read, listen to music, play guitar, play golf, eat leisurely meals off of real plates, exercise, meditate, maybe go see a matinee, or take a stab at writing a few pages of a self-indulgent nature and then, after taking the dog for a walk, climb into bed and fall into a peaceful, stress-free sleep.
The day after that, bored out of my mind, I start drinking Screwdrivers around the clock and quickly descend into a dark, frothing madness that leads to either being institutionalized or posting something clever and humorous to a bus board, or at worst, acute liver failure and an agonizing, premature death.
The thing is with writing is that sometimes you have no control over what you write. It’s like being drunk I guess. You do it and then have no memory of it later. You don’t know what you were feeling at the time and you don’t know why you wrote it. Looking back, it doesn’t even make sense but you know there was a lot of pain.
The really scary part?
There’s hardly a day goes by when I don’t think about quitting this Internet business.
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