Happy Birthday, Evan Allen Jones
So today my best friend from high school became an uncle. For some reason it feels like a momentous occasion for not only him, but myself as well, and all my friends, and everyone I know, and I feel like I should write about it.
But really, I'm not sure what I want to say about it. It feels weird. really weird. people that I know are starting to have kids. people that aren't that much older than me. they're going to have kids with people they've known their whole lives; people they met a few months ago; people they don't know at all. apparently the whole mess is like... real important, at least according to psych class. I don't know.
It's like 4 in the morning now. I drove home a little while ago thinking about all of this and a lot of other things, and a lot of profound thoughts went through my head, but once again I sit down to write about it and I can't really say anything. That's mostly why I never write in this thing. I seem to have an extremely short term memory for anything worthwhile that I happen to come up with. It's probably the most frustrating thing in the world.
I guess all I can really say is here's to you, Uncle Jimmy. And here's to life, and every pointless, worthless, unnecessary, impractical, and god-damned beautiful thing in it.
But really, I'm not sure what I want to say about it. It feels weird. really weird. people that I know are starting to have kids. people that aren't that much older than me. they're going to have kids with people they've known their whole lives; people they met a few months ago; people they don't know at all. apparently the whole mess is like... real important, at least according to psych class. I don't know.
It's like 4 in the morning now. I drove home a little while ago thinking about all of this and a lot of other things, and a lot of profound thoughts went through my head, but once again I sit down to write about it and I can't really say anything. That's mostly why I never write in this thing. I seem to have an extremely short term memory for anything worthwhile that I happen to come up with. It's probably the most frustrating thing in the world.
I guess all I can really say is here's to you, Uncle Jimmy. And here's to life, and every pointless, worthless, unnecessary, impractical, and god-damned beautiful thing in it.