An Open Letter of Envy and Reluctant Admiration

dream forever live never

To the Woman in the Produce Section Who is Slowly, Carefully Picking Out Her String Beans One by One:

Oh, dear heart—if I had your capacity to focus so precisely on so mundane a task, without finding myself bored to the point of fury within the first fifteen seconds, I could gather all the pills I take for my ADDs and pitch them to the four winds.

If I had that—you fantastic creature—along with your ability to apply such clearly heartfelt dedication to the profoundly trivial, this blog would soon overflow the internet.

And if I had those things—my treasure—and, too, the free time it takes to do what you are doing—oh, sweet mercy! I would be utterly, literally and so, so joyously unmotherfuckingstoppable!

Thank you, apparition of pasts and futures unspeakable, for giving me a glimpse of the man I could have been; and may, one day, yet still be. I will carry your memory with me until my ultimate breath—and speak of you to the angels.

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Reality bites.

HOLY FYCKK I AM WATCHING AND HEARING A CAT EAT A MOUSE RIGHT THE M.F> NEXT TO ME Jesus, this is happening. I’m on a porch in Northampton, MA (don’t EVEN ask) and I heard a thump and the cat who lives here has a poor little dude in his mouth and is seriously going to town on it like Louie Anderson at an Old Country Buffet.* I can hear bones breaking. Christ, Tom and Jerry just got real as shit. I might not sleep tonight after all.

 

* © Johnny Carson, 1983, The Tonight Show. All rights reserved. Hey-o.