Yesterday was my sixty-seventh birthday. I got a free B-52 at the Ixtapa in Sultan; plus, I had two shots of Oban single malt Scotch. As birthdays go, it was tolerable.

For all that happened yesterday, I’m bored with life; due to changes in my meds I’ve gained over 30 lbs. in the past year; my cataracts are worsening to the point where I get a new prescription every six months; I've got skin cancer on my ear; I can’t drive more than a couple miles to the grocery store and definitely not out on the highway at highway speeds because being bipolar makes me too inattentive to keep track of what I’m doing; and, more importantly, it’s harder to write.

I think I just don’t give a shit anymore. Somethings just aren't all that important.