On the eve of turning 30 I wrote this in an attempt to summarize my twenties in my preferred style at the time: wordy, impressionistic, allusive, trying too hard, not particularly honest.
Last night, on the eve of turning 40, I thought I’d try the same thing. But as the depressing bullet points piled up I was like: You know what? My thirties were a real shitshow. Sort of on every level? So let’s just wrap that whole decade up in tinfoil and toss it in the back of the freezer and let’s get started again.