My friend, Sylvie, reminded me yesterday that no one had ever heard of me. She needn't have. She's the same dear friend who has suggested death as a real career move. More than once.
Of course I continue to insist that I'm happy right where I am. Nowhere. I have nothing to live up to, nowhere to fall. I've never had a hit to follow up, no glory days to re-live.
Do you suppose that it's all sour grapes, just refusing to admit defeat, failure? Well, sir, it may be. It seems to feel good, though. Who cares?