allmostrelevant

One day in school we learned about the presidents and that most of them were dead, and that the ones born sooner, died sooner. We started asking each other’s birthdays to see who will who will live the longest, and who will die first. “November 8th? Ha ha – I’m gonna live longer than you. You’re March 23rd? Dang.” We hadn’t learned how to multiply or divide yet, only addition and subtraction.

I made a tree house in the woods and the park’s department tore it down. Save the trees. I built another one in a more hidden spot. It was in the trees in front of my neighbor’s house, but it was hidden and he couldn’t tell. He wanted a better view; we all did. He chopped down all the trees and no one came after him.

When it’s slightly gusty and raining softly I get the most annoyed. If it’s raining hard I’m okay with it; at least I know I’ll get wet. It’s when you shouldn’t get wet, but then the occasional raindrop somehow eludes your umbrella and lands on your face, just below your right eye on the thin, sensitive part of your cheek; a single, unexpected drop, over and over.

I never understood sacrificing yourself for a cause. It doesn’t seem like a cause that I’d want to join. I like to have many baskets and diversify my egg distribution, and not have them all in just one.

A writer committed suicide by stacking up all the things he’d written, standing on them, and then jumping. He fell 67 stories to his death.

I passed by a “corporate business park” the other day. I find the term ‘business park’ quite funny; little kids in suits running around gray scale corners and concrete, playing nice with one another, smiling, and then turning around.

You learn real life skills as a youngen. You learn to borrow a piece of paper instead of ‘having’ one. Who borrow’s paper anyway? I mean – who gives it back? It’s like some sort of obligatory, non-negotiable, long-term lease; like borrowing the only open parking space, or lending your lover a boquet of flowers.

It’s simple economics; I won’t get out of bed unless I have a reason to. It has nothing to do with how warm the sheets are or how cold the floor is.

Two older gentlemen, in their 60’s, were talking about their friends and family, and the conversation landed on a friend of one of them, saying that his friend’s wife was Japanese. The other man chuckled as if it were ironic—I didn’t hear the whole conversation—and then asked if they were still married. What a question. Maybe it seems so commonplace now, but to ask if someone is still married is quite a heavy question with a light jacket.