41 years old, an unemployed writer as I've just recently realised. Not unemployed in the strict legal sense of course. I have a job. I teach English to a bunch of overseas students who for the most part will never ever share my interest in language, English or any other. I mean unemployed in the spiritual sense. Unemployed in the sense that I do far too little for my inner working life. Yes for sure some of you might well be thinking "what is this old wanker on about?" and you'd be write to think that. But that's not the point. My inner life is a trashed life, wastrel life, shit life. I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. But most people probably don't even have one to trash, or realise that they might have such a thing. Otherwise why would so many people be content to be bank clerks, tram drivers, industrial engineers, systems analysts. Note the absence of a question mark.