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After almost a decade we’re all hurt, scared, and angry and losing the ability to keep that pain from slipping into our day to day life. That’s why more and more you see people publicly talking about when “IT” will happen.
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The inevitable Graham Platner rant.
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So I kept walking, on to Chinatown long enough to see street signs with golden dragons on top, then back East toward the blocks that held hundred thousand dollar watches, Ferrari’s and the AKC French Bulldog people with their hard silicon faces.
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...I pity them. I feel genuinely sorry for all of them with their yellow ribbon stickers and “would’ve served but” because I experienced something else during those dark days, something they will never experience for themselves.
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When faced with unimaginable horrors some people will run, more will freeze, but a surprising number will fight. A shocking number of people will run to aid their fellow man. I’ve seen it
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Felt good to be joyous. Man doing something is so much better than sitting, watching, and feeling like shit isn’t it? Remember that feeling. Cherish it.
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An hour and at least a mile later I still couldn’t shake the feeling of that place. The heavy sense of loss and futility and the gnawing question of “why?” would linger far longer than I cared to admit.
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Right now I have Dos Equis in the fridge. An imported Mexican lager is fitting I guess. Dos Equis is by no means a “special” beer but it's crisp and cold and there, which makes it about as good as a beer gets.
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One fine summer day I was driving down the highway with the windows down and Waylon Jennings turned up when I saw a big, black, truck barreling toward me in the oncoming lane. Now I was born in the Deep South. I’m not a truck hater. Hell I’ve
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I knew with a cold certainty I’ve never experience before or since that if I chose to quit, if I closed my eyes right then I would slip back into the cold, comfortable darkness. I wouldn’t feel a thing ever again.
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I couldn't help but shake my head. "You motherfucker..." Jack just looked at me with big sad eyes and wagged his tail. "Whole goddamned world is falling apart and you're just sitting in a sunbeam." If a dog could shrug Jack would've.
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Every interaction was a minefield. I was withdrawn, depressed, the only ray of sunshine was my spouse and kid and good country music on the car stereo. I pulled on those old battered boots of Mister Billy’s and they felt right. They felt like home.