You have to go, to go. Push on, pushing on. I’m smoking a cigar inside. First time in years. I accidentally put it out in my son’s cereal bowl dish with my spit. I didn’t want that. I had fun lighting it again with a wooden match made of what the fuck fire.
I’m coming to terms with my life. I have terms and Life doesn’t. So we’re both sitting here with this cigar watching smoke. I once read that a blind man wouldn’t smoke because he couldn’t see the smoke rise around him. I get it. I wouldn’t smoke either if I couldn’t see the difference in each rising movement. Those columns are different each time so that’s where we’d miss the everything about what we wanted to be.
Anyway, I type so letters become words around thought.
Cheers,
Matt
Hey Matt. How is the wife, the house and you coming along?
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Megan is good. Thank you for asking. We just had a random early day and brought Gavin to have lunch with us. The house is incredible, though there is still a long way to go. The excavation isn’t complete.
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Awesome
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I love this, Matt. Nothing quite as mesmerizing as watching fire and/or smoke.
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“a wooden match made of what the fuck fire.” Brilliant. Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.
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I agree and thank you. Cheers
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I’ve said it before but I love your writing Matt. It’s a highlight of my time spent on WordPress. Don’t stop.
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Damn Matt. Thank you.
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I mean it mate.
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