You can do anything in 185 seconds. Negotiate that silence. Ask them why this car doesn’t move as fast as it should. Basically anything.

She still has that $300k in the trust, but she lost her ID and does not have the $60 processing fee. If she had the $300k she would have the $60, but it is not that easy. There is no sense of urgency attached to $300k, and she won’t walk the distance. Everyone around her protects the $300k with what they have, but she does not care. No one gets paid and it accrues ridiculous amounts of interest. The bank sucks it dry and the $300k fuels everyone’s accounts. It is a long stream of missed opportunities. She never got the $300k and disappeared off the PI’s radar.

Every uncle has a young girlfriend. She’s just on the cusp, just barely reached. She has two kids and a degree in History. She works as a snack bar attendant at a low-end country club. Her ex-boyfriends have the same name. You do not understand how she lives in the neighborhood she lives in with the money you presume she makes. She is no older than 31. She asks you to go to New York with her to “visit her Columbia friends”. She is pretty enough. Her first unit of Botox was administered by her niece-for-two-years. She has a time limit. And a certain format.

The family told me to tell you that it is much too much right now but I don’t know what is much too much right now and have no desire to figure it out. The much is too much for even me, and they said it would be too much for you, so I wonder how much will play out in the end. I used to believe in the judge of it all, but I will let myself come home now. The world needs you to have it all together by the 19th.

You should mark the important date with big red marker. And spit out the car window without getting it in the hair you spent a year growing out. It’s a disgusting habit that continues to amuse me. It’s so easy to record the freestyle the man your fucking asks you to record. Your hair begins to perfectly frame the face. Remember that feeling and bring it up anytime anyone asks you about your life.

“He wore lobster-printed shorts and I recorded his beats for him. His dad flew a Cessna 150 plane over my house and took a picture. I was sixteen.”

They will be thankful for the wisdom.

You are full of perfect stories with no ending. They love the perfect story and want to steal the perfect story from you. But the perfect stories only happened when you had it all together by the 19th. It’s the 20th, and there’s nothing to tell. It has to be timed perfectly.

You have to get it all out before the time is up.