This living with people thing is a bit much. I mean really, I am too old for this. Just one fishing evening, and suddenly with three people instead of one, I’ve never felt more cramped in my life. Guests, phone calls, LOUD talking, and general noise. It was perfect. Orderly, and neat. IT WAS ORDERLY. One day, and it’s all back to chaos and entropy’s through the roof. And it’s too hot even by my standards.
And here’s the killer, too much fishing HINDI.
There are so many aspects to this that annoy me in other ways too. I hate being the youngest person by over ten years all the time. I just hate it. ALWAYS being around older people at home is so depressing. I DON’T WANT TO END UP ALL BALD AND BELLIED. I know I probably will, but I’d rather not think about it or be reminded about it at every possible instant.
I think what is bothering me is that somehow I’ve lost my chance at being a kid. I’ve been old and mature as a child. Soon, I’ll be old. Somewhere in there, there should have been fun and carefree. I really would like to know how that feels. This being a wannabe kid in the head, but circumstances and people you live with and so on being “been there done that, I’d rather sleep” old, is fishing crazy.
While I am at it, this doesn’t help either.
First thing tomorrow, I look for a studio. I don’t care if I can’t afford it. I don’t care if I become the… I might as well paste this.
CHANDLER: If I’m gonna be an old, lonely man, I’m gonna need a thing, you know, a hook, like that guy on the subway who eats his own face. So I figure I’ll be Crazy Man with a Snake, y’know. Crazy Snake Man. And I’ll get more snakes, call them my babies, kids will walk past my place, they will run. “Run away from Crazy Snake Man,” they’ll shout!
Remember that? Good times. Good times. I remember being able to laugh so hard.
pundit@emphaticallystatic.org
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