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Maybe it is too late, after all. You can’t just go on as if things are the same as they have always been. You gotta do something permanent and decisive and true. Or at least try to. Today, I feel I am trying to live a life that would’ve been perfect for me 10 years ago. But now, I wonder what in the hell I am doing.

The day was beautiful, bright, fat clouds in a perfectly clear sky, but I had to force myself to even notice. Look up, I said to myself. Notice how beautiful the day is. I look up–register blue, white, sun. I return my gaze to my lap, grinding my teeth. My toenail throbs–just another pain in a constellation of aches. I limp home across the bridge. This town shines, but all I know is that I have no spaghetti sauce. That the bananas have gone to black ruin. That there are only two beers left. That I will be too tired to go to the store.

So strange to go from victory to defeat back to victory so quickly. Each day I am both destroyed and affirmed.

2 Comments

  1. tasteetriceps

    Fuckin’ love ya.

  2. Anonymous

    You are bigger than any mistake.

    The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
    It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
    It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
    Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
    Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
    And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
    And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
    Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

    And for all this, nature is never spent;
    There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
    And though the last lights off the black West went
    Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
    Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
    World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

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