Do

I don't know who I am

Or what I'm going to be

Though I promised myself not to let what I do define who I am

But the reality is I don't know

What I'll be doing in 10 years

Or where

Or with who

Maybe I'll find myself deep in the Venezuelan jungles tending to jaguars and fighting poachers

Or maybe I'll be sitting high in a cloud brushing sardine box for the wealthy, telling people their problems and giving them a god, one pill at a time

Perhaps my life will play out on the road, playing guitar in dingy blues clubs and grimy bars

God forbid I'll be sitting behind a desk in some forsaken cubicle typing out meaningless reports

But I digress

I don't know

What to do now