"This is how your soul grows old, and how the music and the strong drinks, begin to make sense."

I will be meeting Ms. K after work today for a cocktail and presumably she has formed a mental version of me by reading this blog and conversing with me via email (and even via the dreaded telephone). And so this leads me to one of my more recent insecure thoughts:

What if the literary version of myself doesn't live up to the flesh and blood version?

Wait. I'm awesome. What the hell do I have to worry about? I even have pretty shoes on. Are my words dishonest? Have I actively cultivated a persona that is not myself? The answer is no. But . . . but . . . .

Oh just fuck it. Enough with the blather. I'm off to have a bourbon and a good time.

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PS -- I stole the title of this post from my friend Rachel's blog.
Do read it.