Time for an update...perhaps.
I've spent a good portion of the evening eating fresh Rainier cherries, sipping bottled water, and watching French movies.
The air coming through my window smells of good bacon. Why I can't imagine at this time of the evening, but it does. The smell of good bacon frying--not the hideous Hormel atrocity, but honest-to-God real bacon--always reminds me of home and fall and being young. In two weeks, my class will have its ten-year reunion, which I will not attend. I think that and perhaps that today would have been my father's birthday have made me...nostalgic. A decade ago, an eyeblink really, I was just another country boy--as blonde and blue-eyed and tall and broad-shouldered and athletic and clean-cut as you could ask. I was smart and had a ticket out of my dead-end town to a good school.
Move forward an eyeblink, and I find myself seeking advice and plotting my ascent on a corporate ladder that I wouldn't have known existed back then, and that seems to consume all my energy. The country boy is gone, and the city boy doesn't understand how he ever lived without ten Thai places within walking distance. No more the strong one, the chosen one, the destined one: I'm just a person now, and I like it better. I'm still smart and tall and clean cut and blonde and blue-eyed and broad-shouldered. Like many jocks, I've become fat, and like most of America, I'm going to do something about that one day real soon now. It's trite to wonder if you would give your past self any advice if you could. I know I would.
"Don't fuck the crazy ones."
I've spent a good portion of the evening eating fresh Rainier cherries, sipping bottled water, and watching French movies.
The air coming through my window smells of good bacon. Why I can't imagine at this time of the evening, but it does. The smell of good bacon frying--not the hideous Hormel atrocity, but honest-to-God real bacon--always reminds me of home and fall and being young. In two weeks, my class will have its ten-year reunion, which I will not attend. I think that and perhaps that today would have been my father's birthday have made me...nostalgic. A decade ago, an eyeblink really, I was just another country boy--as blonde and blue-eyed and tall and broad-shouldered and athletic and clean-cut as you could ask. I was smart and had a ticket out of my dead-end town to a good school.
Move forward an eyeblink, and I find myself seeking advice and plotting my ascent on a corporate ladder that I wouldn't have known existed back then, and that seems to consume all my energy. The country boy is gone, and the city boy doesn't understand how he ever lived without ten Thai places within walking distance. No more the strong one, the chosen one, the destined one: I'm just a person now, and I like it better. I'm still smart and tall and clean cut and blonde and blue-eyed and broad-shouldered. Like many jocks, I've become fat, and like most of America, I'm going to do something about that one day real soon now. It's trite to wonder if you would give your past self any advice if you could. I know I would.
"Don't fuck the crazy ones."
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Make me a pillow out of toilet paper