Four Twenty. Plus a week. Plus a day.
April 28, 2026 CE. Or Anno Domini, depending how you slice it. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I had started a record label with a friend from Harrisburg. I was spending the majority of my time in beautiful Montana. The economy was in the toilet. The political climate was awful. The Epstein list had come out, and everyone in power, from Hollywood to the Oval Office, was in there. AI was drinking up all our water. My personal future looked bright. The world's future looked bleak. I knew not what to do with myself this day. I felt in some ways I had reached a kind of internal milestone this last winter, one of knowing my self-worth and knowing I would not compromise it for anyone or anything. This was a difficult and stressful lesson to learn, one I felt I should have learned long ago, but it did not matter. My internal voice no longer nagged me with doubts of if I was good enough. Simply by living and breathing I was good enough, dammit. So now t...