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Temporal Moronomy: The Contents Of The Rest Of The World’s Dream Do Not Concern Me (or, Why I’m Not Turning 40)
I originally wrote this essay shortly before my 40th birthday, after which I posted it on my blog and a number of other places.
December, 2008
For the record, I was born on Dec. 11, 1968. I turned 39 last year, on Dec. 11, 2007. I can't say I thought about it much, at least at first. But a month or two ticked by, and I thought of a number. The number 40. Just as I had thought of the number 40 on December 11th of ten years previous, in 1998, it having arisen unbidden following a brief consideration of the number 30.
Nine years before that I thought about the number 21, 18 three years before that, and five years earlier still, 13.
According to conventions of the religion I was born into, I became a man at 13, amidst much fanfare from my family.…
For a while, I had a Twitter account, @robGANhitchock, where I was posting AI illustrations of 
Back in 2009 my old ex-friend Rick Abruzzo, whom I'd met some years earlier during a mutual effort to resuscitate the soggy corpse of the San Francisco Cacophony Society, invited me to come down with my guitar and fill some airtime on 
This one is finished except for the final production and mastering... it needs some studio gloss on it.
Posted with great reluctance, my perpetually unfinished magnum opus, likely to someday stand as my failed masterpiece, a ponderous 65-minute arabesque of serialist post-rock instrumentals which, after 7 ongoing years of work and no end in sight, is at this point holding up the completion of 8 subsequent albums.
