Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about money. Having found myself with the opportunity to come into a fair bit of it, it’s caused me to revisit priorities, and seemingly, to put a price on them.
And, initially, when I sat down to type this out, I was going to comment on the sale of Carson Brackney’s blog–he’s selling the domain and the content to the highest bidder. (Which is borderline ludicrous, in my opinion.)
But instead I find myself waxing philosophical. Because, invariably, everything comes with–and at–a price: your beatitude, your distrust, the nocuous feculence dropping from your mouth…there’s a price associated with all of it.
I can tell you that often times, the price of these things is innumerable. It can’t be charted. It can’t be calculated, put in an account somewhere to grow tax-deferred. Which is ironic because these are often the same things for which we feel the deepest loss.
[Jam of the Day]: Lily Allen, Knock ‘Em Out