(no subject)
I got a phone call that woke me up, maybe a half an hour ago, at 2:30, that prompted me to make a brief trip over to 72 Chestnut. As I drove over, I saw a sad figure in a black peacoat. I knew it instantly to be one of my former professors, Josh. He's sort of like the Grady Tripp to my James Leer. I rolled down my window and beckoned him in, drove him home. It wasn't far, and I'm always glad to see him.
As we sit in his driveway, he says what is at once the saddest and truest thing I've heard in a while:
"The world doesn't offer much to those of us who don't give a fuck."
Poor, sad Josh.
Poor, sad me.
Except my idea of "not giving a fuck" is more in my balls-to-the-wall approach to life, not my excuse for why I don't do much.
As we sit in his driveway, he says what is at once the saddest and truest thing I've heard in a while:
"The world doesn't offer much to those of us who don't give a fuck."
Poor, sad Josh.
Poor, sad me.
Except my idea of "not giving a fuck" is more in my balls-to-the-wall approach to life, not my excuse for why I don't do much.