I’ve been seeking my next YES for fifteen years, sixteen this August. Fk. I’ve written twenty books, three albums worth of music in three bands, and I’m still single. I’m aware I’m holding out for something I can’t quite describe.

• runner fit
• music
• dark hair
• au naturel

• reader
• seeker
• dancer
• music lover

I have a vague idea. Perhaps idealistic. I’ve given away beautiful people. I’ve made a few enemies. I’ve suffered greatly in the darkness of divorce and loneliness.

I’m not lonely now. It has nothing to do with her.

I’m not at liberty to talk about that. But I can tell you “I’m in.”

That’s what I said to her last night.

What it means (she asked) is less clear. I thrive in my house, my hot tub, my cats, my bed, my guitars and and and

It’s nothing without a connection to the living. AI will not get us there. The soul of AI is empty. Void. None.

I’m not seeking a ten.

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