I sit on the terrace, the evening sun and a light breeze on my shaved head, listening to music, a can of beer open, another chilling in the freezer, while I am writing this and breathing in and out, knowing all is good.

Now of course, in myth and legend I'd be at the head of a conquering army, horse damp with sweat, sword slick with blood, or better yet driving a supercar along a stunning road, hot chick by my side, as we head to lunch and drink and drugs in a well-appointed hotel with a view of the bay, or just cut to the chase and I'm getting my dick sucked by three women while smoking a joint and rolling hard on foxy moxy, a fourth lady doing my admin, keeping my accounts in order, a fifth whispering in my ear "you will never die".