Why can’t I be the Ghost of Christmas Past or something
Why can’t that be my job
Can I have that job when I die
Can I be a grim reaper or the god of sadness and firecrackers or a spirit who leads people to the Asphodel Meadows or Valhalla or whatever
Please can I do that
A conversation with my dad just now:
Dad: How you doin over there, Ryan?
Me: Ah, man. Broke and lonely. You know how that song goes.
Dad: Lonely? You’ve got tons of friends.
Me: I’m uh . . . I’m talkin about the other kind of loneliness, Dad. The one you got till the god dang grave.
Dad: Oh, yeah. That one.
I took this last year!
(I am posting pictures of Cool People today fyi)
Smiling and waving and looking so fine!!!!!
Oh babbbyyyy!!!!! Baby yeah!!!!!!
Last night I walked home in the pouring rain and, finding a low wall beneath an overhang, sat down and thought that I didn’t really give a damn what happened next
THE ETERNAL QUESTION:
Am I completely insane or am I seeing the thing for what it is?
This is a picture Laura took of me yesterday as I read “How It Feels When a Parent Dies” which I had found in a brown paper bag near our house