Gandhi said that whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but it’s very important that you do it because nobody else will. Like when someone comes into your life and half of you says: “You’re nowhere near ready”. And the other half says: “Make her yours forever”.
You have changed me.
You cured me.
How it is that the answer to
my problems IS not enough?If my friend had been with “Hope”,
I had been proud of the one.I suppose that that is the problem,
proud but not jealous.And a man prefers to have the jealousies
of somebody before their respect.I hate to have said that.
there are two kinds of angry people – explosive and implosive. Explosive is the type of individual you see screaming at the cashier for not taking his coupon. Implosive is the cashier who remains quiet day after day and then finally shoots everyone in the store. You’re the cashier.
updated THE LIST!!!
Hello Dad. You know I remember a lifetime ago, when I was about 3 1/2 feet tall, weighing all of 60 pounds, but every inch your son. I remember those Saturday mornings going to work with my dad, we’d climb into that big green truck. I thought that truck… was the biggest truck in the universe pop. I remember how important the job we did was, how if it wasn’t for us, people would freeze to death. I thought you were the strongest man in the world. And remember those home videos when mom would dress up like Loretta Young, barbeques and football games, ice cream, playing with the Tuna. And when I left for California only to come home with the FBI chasing me, and that FBI agent Trout had to kneel down to put my boots on and you said, “That’s where you belong you son of a bitch, puttin on Georgie’s boots.” That was a good one pop, you remember that. And remember that time when you told me that money wasn’t real. Well old man, I’m 42 years old, and I finally realize what you were trying to tell me, so many years ago. I finally understand. Your the best, pop, just wish I could have done more for you, wish we had more time. Anyway, may the wind always be at your back, and the sun always upon your face, and may the wings of destiny carry you aloft to dance with the stars. I love you Dad. Love George.
There is an idea of a ME; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable… I simply am not there.
I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don’t know why. My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.
So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers, all false. The truth is that I’m a bad person, but that’s going to change, I’m going to change. This is the last of this sort of thing. I’m cleaning up and I’m moving on, going straight and choosing life. I’m looking forward to it already. I’m going to be just like you: the job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing machine, the car, the compact disc and electrical tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisurewear, luggage, three-piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing the gutters, getting by, looking ahead, to the day you die.
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