In which the author makes no sense and doesn't even give a good god damn.
What makes you happy. What makes you get up in the morning, get out of bed, get dressed. What moves you forward, when lying down is easier. Makes your life interesting, makes your life worth living. What.
For me it's little things. I like to play with my dog, to drive. I love to write and spend time with my wife. The danger, I think, lies in anticipation. Nostalgia for things never seen, places that aren't, people we could never be and wouldn't like if we met in a bar. Looking forward and looking back are dangerous things.
Such a fucking sap. Be happy.
posted by Tim Akers @ 7:13 AM
8 Comments:
Check it out. I've been comment spammed. Well fuck your architectural digest! Fuck it!
That is why I do not allow comments. That and only ten readers, of course.
I'm already getting dissed far and wide for the 'my wife and family make it all worthwhile' stuff, but it's the simple truth.
And how is the dog, anyway?
You tell us all about the grisly stuff and then no updates. Nothing. Just leave us [me, anyway] hanging! Man...
Don't get me started on my dog. It'll last forever. I'll lose all my tough guy cred.
I keep going for the thrill of the chase, for a marvelous song, for something new every day (and I'm thankful to be in a position to see something new and strange every day), and for watching people interact with each other. It's thrilling to me, watching people deal with each other. I'm probably nuts.
No, I'm afraid I have to insist on dog news. You can give all the protagonists in this deal fake names if that helps.
I'm waaaaiiiiting...
Dog stories tomorrow. Honest.
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