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Oh to be born rich and beautiful... such a curse.
Do you dream?
Do you want things?
Do you love yourself? Do you want yourself to be fabulous and frisky?
Do you wonder if you are hot? if you are forsaken? if you are boring?
Do you wonder if you are sitting with your back towards the entrance/exit and thinking the light in front of you is the goal?
Does it matter?
Are you killing time until the next hour? Do you regret that the hour has passed?
Do you think the world celebrates your presence or will celebrate it?
Do you care if it does?
I was telling Greg about the quote from einstein about the theory of
relativity: the minute with your hand on a hot iron versus a minute with a pretty girl.
Lately, I've taken to reading thoreau and bukowski. Obviously. I enjoy the comrades who eschew the drone and strains.
I am the laziest person on the planet. I'm lazy nonetheless. I like to loll.
It comes and goes.
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