(no subject)
I thought about what it meant to me to be alive, as I lay there lazily chewing up thin strips of gas station bought teriyaki beef jerky. I gnawed each bit of meat-plank until it changed into a ball of warm juicy flesh in my mouth. Distracted as I was, I chewed the jerky like gum, forgetting that it was there for minutes on end. I laid there on the ground, under a pine tree, in a way that I imagined a happy traveling bum would have in the old days. Laying against the tree, head propped up on my satchel, just enjoying the shad and pondering the bigger questions in life.
With my simple life and honest, naive philosophy, I would pierce the greatest of questions that have plagued mankind and come away with answers that were both logical and applicable to my world view.
“Shit,” I thought to myself, “I can't do this. I have no fucking frame of reference for what it's like to be a ramblin' man in the 1930's.” I was right, I had romanticized the destitute into the form of a sweetly, sad hero, instead of what they were, which is: extremely dangerous.
I pulled out my phone, and checked my email.
With my simple life and honest, naive philosophy, I would pierce the greatest of questions that have plagued mankind and come away with answers that were both logical and applicable to my world view.
“Shit,” I thought to myself, “I can't do this. I have no fucking frame of reference for what it's like to be a ramblin' man in the 1930's.” I was right, I had romanticized the destitute into the form of a sweetly, sad hero, instead of what they were, which is: extremely dangerous.
I pulled out my phone, and checked my email.