Recent topic of discussion: the need to do away with this world of organized boredom.
The setting: Camp Bar, Smith St. & Warren, sipping perhaps the purest expression of insular escape, the crowd most likely richer than I. (charity drink from a friend) counting change. ticking down minutes till payday. ones and zeroes. a unified field theory of longing. and don't forget the hatred. it can be pure, and there are those who deserve no sympathy, and no forgiveness. (we just want to be in the right so desperately)
The question: are my life's ambitions so completely and utterly selfish as to render me the worst kind of hypocrite? or do we fight the battles where we can, in the ways we're best suited?
another drink, please. & i'll be in love with everything in an hour.
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