June 1st, 2026 - Many Worlds

Dear TNY,

I couldn’t finish “Many Worlds”.

In fact, I couldn’t even be distracted from life by this story.  I texted.  I updated a resume and applied to a job.  I read some old work.  I took a shit.  I got up and ordered the first of two beers for this day.  I read a little of the story.  Then I looked at pictures on my phone and read some articles.  Ultimately, this shit is so bad (to me) that I couldn’t fucking pay attention to it.

And that’s it.  That’s fucking it.

I did visit the Wizard of Kindness this week. And we did some walks and discussed Froot Loops and I didn’t overdrink and I watched an older couple be little kids to each other and it was wonderful. Which isn’t helping my psyche.

I haven’t been able to cry as much as I used to.  I think it’s due to the Duloxetine.  I’m taking it for nerve pain from my sciatica/herniated disc (because I can’t take regular meds as I am on blood thinners for my heart), and I think I’m getting the side effect of mood altering.  As in, I no longer have access to the deepest parts of my emotions.  Or the peaks.  I’m just middle-grounding.  But I’m aware enough in all of this to recognize I’m missing pieces.  Which makes me sad. 

I was driving the other day and I started crying, though.  Not the usual ugly sobbing.  But wetness and hyperventilating.  Because I was fucking sad.  I wouldn’t say I’m the smartest person.  I wouldn’t say I was destined to invent things that matter.  Or lead people through hard times.  Or perform acts of greatness.  Or…fucking anything.  I’m a regular, just like you or anyone else.  But I’m smart enough to see the future, at least predict utilizing the data that has been presented thus far.  Then we can prognosticate, to a certain degree anyway.  And I didn’t know it at the time, at least to the clarity that I have now, why I was crying.  But I’m more aware of it now.  Each day, hopefully we learn more, you know?  So I’m going to start at today and work back to the crying.  It won’t take long.

I was laying on someone’s bed this morning, casually wasting time scrolling through reels on YouTube, when I happened upon a short vid of a couple arguing.  I’m pretty sure it was AI slop.  In the background, past The Golden Gate Bridge (which is so human in that the fucking bridge is painted red), a meteor strikes and then a tsunami starts heading their way.  They stop arguing and kiss.  And there’s a phrase above the clip that says, “If death can strip away pride in just a few seconds, why do we let it control our entire lives?”  And if you know anything about my arguments here about relationships and love, then you know that’s me preaching to the choir.  Because that phrase is exactly right.  If that’s the most real you, why haven’t you been that the whole fucking time?  Why wait until the end?  What a waste of fucking time it would be to do this whole thing and learn right at the end that none of it mattered as much as you thought it did and only the connections you made held lasting impression.  That all this fucking “civilization” was a distraction by the rich to keep you looking somewhere else so they could rob you your whole life.  Alright, I’ll admit that last sentence was over the top.  Even if it’s true.  The reality is that no amount of money ever bought love.  Or time.  And those are the only things that will matter at the end of this. 

So that’s bouncing around in my head all morning while I’m walking to the taphouse to write this critique and drink my two allotted brewskies for the day.

And I just took a phone call that I knew was coming and it played right into this.  And the content was expected.  And that makes me sad too.

So, back to what will matter later, when faced with death, yeah, I got sad on a drive a few days ago.  Because of wasted time.  Again, time isn’t purchasable.  It isn’t manufacturable.  It’s immutable and everflowing.  And I saw how much of it was being wasted in my life by others.  And how much I waste in others’ lives.  Maybe that’s a thing humans do.  Maybe it’s inevitable.  Maybe it’s that we need all this life to struggle so at the end it makes sense.  But I don’t believe that.  I think our ego is crushing us.

I was sad.  I was sad because someone is throwing our time away.  Because of what I believe to be a lack of understanding.  But understanding takes time.  God has it taken me a lot of time to approach just understanding that I don’t understand.  Either way, all that time is squandered.  When it could just be what we would do if we thought we were gonna die tomorrow.  I know what I would do.  You know what you would do.  Everyone, for the most part, does.  But we live our lives like the end isn’t ever going to come when every piece of fucking data of existence says that it’s going to end for everyone.

And this morning I was reminded of a song by Joe Purdy.  It’s called “Mary May & Bobby”.  And it’s an amazing storytelling song about true love and little kids and growing up. I love this song. So much. And then this bitch leaves for like 30 years and Bobby stays and pines for her his whole life.  She goes out and gets everything she wants and it isn’t enough so she comes looking for Bobby and he’s still there, just as much in love with her.  That shit isn’t fucking fair to him, man.  She wasted his whole life because she was selfish and dumb.  I loved that song for years.  Still do.  But it hurts my feelings now. Because I’ve done that. I’ve been that person.  And one thinks, isn’t that just love?  To hurt your feelings? No. That’s dickish. 

And after I listened to it this morning, I thought of a scene from How to be Single.  When, essentially, the woman comes back after she’s all done with her experiment out in the world, and says she wants to be with the fella, and he says that he’s seeing someone and that he didn’t need an experiment to know he loved her. 

And I’m faced with the reality, folks, that I have been him and her.  Both.  I’ve been the person who needed to conduct the experiment.  And I’ve known at first sight.  And when you think about the amount of lives that that means you have touched, and the damage you have done, it’s not good.  Horrendous, in fact.  I’m sitting here at Chuck’s Hop Shop on my second of two beers today and realizing that I’m definitely the villain and it sucks.  I’m staying with someone whom I know loves me and knows I can’t love her back.  We are buddies.  Sleep in the same bed, no one is naked.  We watch movies while she plays video games.  I cook her dinners.  She tells me she can’t be monogamous right now because she would have to miss out on our hangouts; and that’s me punishing her, so fun.  And the phone call was from someone that definitely loves me and it was about figuring out what we are now.  I sense I’m growing closer to hurting her, which is not ideal.  But she’s right, I know who my person is. So have all these deep feelings of not wanting to damage shit anymore. She deserves to not be hurt anymore. 

And my person?  M. I. to the motherfucking A.  Do you know why?  Because she thinks she’s on an original journey.  But it isn’t.  It’s the same journey most of us go on which was mentioned above.  In which you are supposed to realize you are the villain and then get a more balanced version of your self-image that isn’t so ego based.  And yet here I am.  Weaseling. Grabbing. Hustling. Fuck my face I’m terrible.  Yuck.

Well, fuck all of this.  And fuck me.  I’m happy to exit this life when it’s coming.  Because as much as I want to be kind, to be nice, to be attentive, to be beautiful, to be loving, to be wonderful, I’m just a piece of shit like everyone else.  A ruiner.  Yay.

Nick