Like everyone that isn't anyone, I wish to matter, to one and all. The thought of being inconsequential is rather disconcerting, that of being forgotten utterly frightful, before one's last death throes even more so than a few generations hence. In the spirit of remembrance, I relate this tale of a self-indulgent life and the thoughts arising of it.
First off: to try and write formally of something so informal as one's thoughts, a rambler of all people, is more effort that I anticipated, good thing i wasn't banking on becoming overnight an author that can sustain himself from his published material... This might prove a futile exercise, but it should prove entertaining once I've become senile, time will tell, over and over, so to speak...
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