This is my journal entry from March 13, 2026 — my real, unedited day, shared just as it happened.
I wake up after a night of sleep that didn't go so smooth. It took me a while to fall asleep. And then I woke up a few times in the middle of the night. It's like I, for some reason, delivering all those doors got me pretty stimulated. My ex-wife laughs and says she thinks I'm training to be a mailman. Like, no, I want to make more money with, I want to make at least double the money with at least half the effort of being a mailman, and I'm capable of doing that. I leave to go pick the kids up from school this morning, and they're happy to see me. I get everything from my ex-wife's house. My son and I make sure to have plenty of time playing in the back seat. He doesn't have a book for me to read or anything today. I think about doing the 8.30 a.m. power flow, but now what I really want to do is do more letters. I find some resistance to actually going out and getting the letters delivered, but I do it. I deliver 120 letters this morning, and then I come in to have lunch.
As I come in to have lunch, it all starts to crumble in my mind. I'm like, seriously, I've delivered hundreds of these letters. I got one phone call, and I don't feel like I'm offering anything. I feel like the letter's just selling. It doesn't feel like it's good enough. Like what I'm delivering is not the best I have to offer. And people don't give a shit about writing a book for the most part. And I crumble. I'm like, damn it. I've got to do something better than this. After lunch, I dictate to ChatGPT my thoughts. And I'm thinking, after seeing what it has to say, I'm thinking what I need is to deliver a mini book. I mean, it takes so much time and energy to go deliver each of these letters. I should be dropping like the best I have to offer. And ChatGPT told me a bunch before, as did many other people, that I shouldn't cold drop something long. That I should only cold drop something short. Like a one or two pager. And it should sell or it should make people want more. But I fucking hate that. I don't agree. I think if I'm going to take all the energy to cold drop something, it should have a hell of a lot of value. I remember back to Ken Honda's book, Happy Money, where he said he sent out some like 16 page essay to people. He sent out thousands of them and that's how he got started. I'm like, I need to figure out what I'm going to write about and then share that. And from there, you know, that I want to drop something at the door that I feel like, you know, I'm not just some pathetic author who can't make a buck that's desperate to help people write their books so I can pay my bills. I want to give someone something and be like, here, this is my gift to you. I hope this makes your life better. I want to drop something that I feel, when I leave it at somebody's house, I feel like I'm going to change their life with it. Now, sure, not most people, but at least a few out of 100 people would read all of it and be like, wow, that really helped me. I was struggling and I feel better now. I feel seen. I want to talk to this guy. I don't think these letters I'm delivering are doing that. And I'm grateful I followed my feelings on that.
I get so worn out thinking about the letters after lunch. I shower and I go to bed for two hours, which is unusual. But I'm observing that this delivering the letters like this feels tiring. But I can't think of any better way to do it. Like handing people in person ChatGPT gives me a bunch of bullshit ideas. Like how, you know, go do talks and workshops, host your own event. Like that's not going to work. How the hell am I going to get people to come to my event? Nobody's asking me for an event. I just cleared out my phone. I need cold drops. I need my writing. I am so down and lonely and depressed. I get up, and I get ready to go to tennis. I brainstorm some with ChatGPT about what I could do. I go to the tennis match from 5 to 7 today at the tennis club, but it gets rained out. I did manage to warm up and play one game with a fellow tennis player who's left-handed, and that was nice. So I drive by my yoga studio, but I get there like just late enough for our, and it's raining at this point. I'm like, ah, forget it. I go home. I have a salad, and I start listening to the recovery literature, which gets me to want to go to a recovery meeting.
So I drive to the recovery meeting, the same location where I met the girl a couple weeks ago, and I'm hoping she's not there. And thankfully, she's not there when I get there. There is a man I know, though, and we have a great conversation. I think back to being raised by an alcoholic father in the first six years of my life who was still drinking. And for the first several years, I was often alone with him all day while my mom worked. And there's this feeling of loneliness. And I don't like being neglected or abandoned, but the feeling like I had to play by myself all the time. Always, you know, with my own toys in my room alone. Playing by myself while dad did work. I eventually got a brother, but, you know, it was years before I could play with him properly. And then I'd always get in trouble playing with him. I think back to that and I'm like, huh, feeling of loneliness goes back a ways, doesn't it? My childhood was often pretty lonely on a base with just my late father. We'd go out sometimes to the playground and stuff, but a lot of the day was spent in the apartment with dad doing woodworking. A lot of it spent in loneliness and isolation. I'm like, huh, I guess that makes sense for how I feel now.
I feel a bit of a burst of upbeat after the recovery meeting, and I head over to another recovery meeting right afterwards. I get there, and there's a whole bunch of dudes and one woman I know that I talked to last week that I'm friendly with. I sit at the table with her. She's sitting by herself. She calls on me, which is nice. I share. I feel decent, like my share contributed a little bit of value. I talked to her after a meeting saying that what she said last week was funny and I was still laughing about it. She warms up a little bit and talks with me and walks out with me. And I'm like, you know, I think this woman is either she's working on a breakup. You know, she's at home alone. I'm at home alone. Wouldn't it be nice to keep each other company? But no, as soon as we get down to the stairs, she walks off, says she's going to go home and have dinner, which I imagine is by herself based on what I know about her. And I head home sad to my house, like so fucking stupid the way we live. You know, no matter like the two of us should probably just sit there and chat and get to know each other more. But our world is so lonely and isolated today and people just accept that this is this is normal to just go home and be by yourself.
And I started to get an idea of what my letter should be about. I wrote a letter about loneliness before, but everybody and ChatGPT all talked me out of it. They're like, no, this letter is too much drama. But I'm like, this to me is what people are acutely suffering with. Like, if you look at my life from the outside, you'd think it's going pretty well. Like my name, my landlords, my neighbors, like nobody, maybe somebody. But I don't think most people picture me like acutely suffering and struggling with loneliness in this house. And even when I was, you know, married and in relationships, I felt lonely in those sometimes too. Like I need to write a letter about, you know, I need to help other people with what I'm struggling with most myself. I want a letter that lays out my struggles and helps someone else who's having similar struggles feel seen. I get home from the recovery meeting and I take a walk around Crescent Lake, which feels nice. I see couples walking and feel so lonely. But then again, I think, well, I love and approve of the lifestyle I'm living. I trust that the universe is going to deliver some woman. And I'm proud that I'm not getting into any coping mechanisms. Somebody at the meeting said to, you know, have fun. It's like, well, what sounds fun to me is to buy a PlayStation 5 and play some video games. But maybe that's not the kind of fun that would make my life better. I think about buying an Ableton Push 3, but shit, I could get a PlayStation 5 for half that price and probably have more fun with it.
I'm thinking, man, it'd be nice, you know, for something unexpected, for, you know, some girl to just call up. And my ex-wife calls up. Like, she says the air conditioning is out. And I figure out that it just needs to be shop vac. The drain's backed up, so the switch clicked and turned it off. I bring the shop back since she doesn't have one. I drive over to her house. I tell her on the phone jokingly, I'm like, I should have been more specific when I was thinking it'd be nice. But it is nice to see my ex-wife and to get a hug from her and for her to be really grateful that I come over and, you know, help out with this simple task that is very meaningful to her to not have the air conditioning out all night. And who knows how much some AC company would charge to do this in the middle of the night. So I help. And I mean, the kids are sleeping there tonight. So, of course, I'm very happy to help the mother of my children and my kids to have a nicer night. I'm very happy to do it. At the same time, there's some self-pity there. Like, man, you know, I'm happy to go help others. But where's the help I need? I get home in my car after filling up at the gas station. And I get home and I'm like, you know, dear collective, please help me. I really want to have a nice partnership and a woman to keep each other company, to not have the two of us be lonely. It just seems so dumb how so many people in this city, so many beautiful single women are just like the one I saw tonight, just sitting at their house by themselves. I'm like, this ain't living, man. This is awful like this.
Then again, I think this may be a relatively short time in my life. For example, I was married to my ex-wife for 13 years. We were together for almost 15. And we're still together now in terms of, you know, like me coming over to help her out. There's just, you know, no sex, but there's still a solid friendship. Like in the long picture of my life, I was with my ex-wife 15 years. I might be with the next woman for 10, 20, 30, 50 years. So this may be a relatively short period in my life. It's very educational and it helps me. I learned some valuable lessons. The man at the recovery meeting tonight who saw me, he said, you know, when I was talking about the pains of dating sober, you know, you said something one day that left me feeling like you just didn't understand. And I said, I appreciate your understanding with that. And I said, yes, when I was married the whole time, I was sober the first 11 years in recovery. I didn't understand about dating sober because I consistently dated with a lot of coping mechanisms and drinking. And now I have a much better understanding.
If you connect with how I live and think, you can follow the rest of my days on YouTube in my Life playlist.