Well, if anyone is still listening, you may want to know how things have turned out. And if anything has changed. Or maybe you don’t give a fuck. I’m not sure if I do. I may have changed some. But as far as any profound shifts in the core of my being…well…life just doesn’t work that way. As John Prine wrote:
I sit alone just looking at the world
Through a storm window
And down on the beach
The sandman sleeps
Time don’t fly
It bounds and leaps
Yeah, time doesn’t fly for us. It trips and stutters and falls and gets up, dusting itself off. Well, actually, time doesn’t do any of those things. It moves on, unfeeling, complacent. And time does not exist of and by itself. Time only exists in the mind and heart and soul of every person that’s shuffling around on this crazy speck in some random galaxy in the cosmos trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. It doesn’t exist for those yet born, or those who have passed on.
And I guess, in this post-existential world, when your left with nothing but the foolish dreams of a hopeless romantic your left with…well…pretty much nothing. But then again, somebody once said: “every day is the start of something beautiful…”.