My life is unreasonably good right now, way beyond what I could have hoped for. Of course all the particulars are precarious. Freedom, health, life itself can end in a heartbeat literally. But until that happens, I have to look in amazement that I can just type into a keyboard and publish my thoughts, speak into the microphone attached to my desk and broadcast my ideas. I can hear about a book about black holes and time warps, press a few keys and it’s delivered to my door in a couple days, read it and have my mind blown. I know how to cook, to buy ingredients at the farmer’s markets. I know how to take care of my body, I have a daughter that is a good kid and dog that’s a bad dog, but perfect in his way. My wife is based. There is zero conflict with my work, neither of us took the clot shot, neither of us would ever trust anything from The Regime again. She has my back, and I have hers. I wake up, walk the dog, drink my black coffee with ghee, settle down to shitpost and work. I can write about anything or nothing. I can drive 25 minutes to the beach if I want. Or go to the track for a run. Or do Sudoku puzzles all day which I have done. I had a whole roast chicken for dinner last night. I bought it at the French butcher who has the best, freshest, most flavorful chickens. I got parsnips, carrots, mushrooms, onions and garlic at the market for my wife who made it. We had salad with tomatoes, peppers, onions and lettuce. We washed it down with the bottles of the best sparkling water that we have delivered from the Spanish market. I make kombucha, I make sauerkraut. I grow herbs and chilis on my balcony. I have a sports podcast, high-stakes fantasy football teams. I watch the NFL every Sunday. I watch my daughter’s basketball games. We hike alongside the ocean cliffs or in the forest. My apartment is nearly 100 years old. It has high ceilings, wood floors, light coming in from both sides. I have a lot of house plants that recycle the stale air and emit oxygen. There is a tree outside my balcony, it’s like a giant house plant in the background. The sounds of cars going by, the people in the street. There is a church nearby and you can hear the people singing every Sunday. They are singing about God. Which is maybe what I’m writing about too.