i was at that party and it fucking sucked
To such meanness, pettiness, baseness, could this man descend, to such an extent could he change! Does this resemble the truth, the reader may ask? Well, it is very likely the truth: it may very well happen with a man. The fiery youth of to-day would start back in horror if he were shown the portrait of himself in his old age. So take with you on your road, as you leave behind you the soft years of youth and emerge into manhood, which renders one hard and surly-take with you all your human impulses, don’t leave them on the way: you can never find them again later on if they are once relinquished. Stern and terrible old age, as it advances, will return you nothing, give you nothing back!
"oh wait, i know you, you're just like my friend, *****," she paused and looked me up and down, "yes, that is who you are; justlikemysomeguyiknow, and you shall be treated as such."
"er...are you sure?"
"o yes, most certainly. you act the same, tell the same jokes, your voices sound the same, you're both blonde. it would be a waste of time to try to find out anything else about you that might differentiate you from him, so i'll just remember that you're the exact same to save me the trouble of thinking." boy, getting to know me sure was easy.
strike. pull back. release. repeat. i stopped to wipe the sweat from my brow and rested on my pick for a minute, looking up to the top of my pit and shielding my eyes from the cold rays of the winter sun. the ground was hard with frost and it was likely to remain that way into the foreseeable future. to my right and left there were people performing similar tasks, but no two went about it the same; one raised his pick high enough to catch the rays of the warmthless sun and sparkle for a second before it was swung at the earth, another exerted himself as little as possible, a third has already collapsed and was staring at the others, looking for help. "hullo down there!" shouted a voice from above. i turned around quickly to catch a glimpse of the speaker, he was a young man, similar to us, but where we wore rags that the frost clung to, he wore a warm jacket. "how are things?" why should he ask? what could he hope to gain? denisovic was right, a warm man can never hope to understand a freezing man, just as i can't hope to understand why the man to my left raises his pick high and the man to my right barely lifts his. empty question- how are things. "not too talkative today? well, i'm sure that'll change soon if we keep getting this beautiful sunshine. take care, my friends!" and with that the warm, cheerful figure returned to his own pit and set about working in his own way.
"do you remember that day at the beach, craig?" she said while looking right into my eyes. i hoped she couldn't see deep enough to understand that i didn't.
"of course i do, how could i forget?" i lied. she moved to take my hand and i pretended that it was busy searching for something in my pocket.
"it is probably the best memory i have," thank goodness, she hadn't noticed, "everytime i think of heaven, all i can think of is that day and you." she smiled at me even more intensely. think craig, think. how could you not remember? it sounds important, but i don't think that i even have a memory i'd consider my best, it all just turns to sludge as time passes. she was waiting for me to say something so i had to remember fast. why is this so important to her? i looked at the paintings of ancient politicians and civil servants on e.m. forster's wall, all were probably mediocre or worse, only made venerable by their antiquity. perhaps that was it? perhaps age had elevated that memory to her, but not to me? but surely it happened at the same time for both of us? and even if time doesn't affect us the same, shouldn't i have similar memories that only matter to me? maybe i do?
"yeah, the best part was how good i looked." i said in a desperate attempt to say something that might be true. how could something i don't even remember have been so important to her?
well, i don't think that anyone can help me so you shouldn't feel so bad. after all, what can a desirous man be but jealous? i begrudge you the things that i have sworn abstinance from or am simply unable to attain, just like any other man would, and i'm not ashamed in the least. it was very kind of you to come all this way to talk to me, but i've already made up my mind.
