No life ever was meaningful, except to other people.

by maddrunkgenius

‘I mean, more needs-based education.’
——People are exhausting.
Bigotry needs an excuse; charity is its own.
——Make it till you can fake it.
Where harm is absent, sin is figment.
——Man in seated walker helped up steep hill by strangers.
A last precious sunny day warmth in true fall.
——Memory is never sent to kiln but always clay.
What everything is, how marvelous to conceive.
——All new things have nascent indigeneity.
Wind-blown normalcy, aint it?
——Everything is in bloom that can be.
I love my romantic partner. But I fear what accepting
her beyond the foreseeable might mean.
——I love our girlfriend because together it means
——I’m left alone.
How is it that I’m older than all these people?

——So much of everything is stupid nonsense.
Relationships are 80 percent communication, 10 percent
sex, & the rest is [chaos].
——Everywhere young people is a place to feel
——cool away from other people.
I dont even lift tho, bro.
——The best way to be wanted is not to be wanting.
A lot of drunk thots arent so clever after.
——New York State of Mind, Tiny Dancer.
‘We dont want any kids.’ But the driver has 7.
——Mellow corn, Old Grandpa, Go Cowboys.
Love & kisses. Hair smell & dancing.
——’ “Friday Night Lights.” ‘ ‘I’m sorry!’
Nothing risked, nothing gained. Nothing always.
——We accomplish nothing but self-ruin.
The spirit toward naught is too easy.

No life ever was meaningful, except to other people.
——I’ll be alone in the end, but until then, there’s people.
‘I believe in nothing. When we die, we rot  & cease.
Your prayers for me are well-meant but heard by
no one & affect absolutely nothing. They are an
exercise in futile egotism, less than zero for
the effort needed.’
——Briefly I self-fooled I might be unlike other men.
The sort of [illegible] place where leaves are made of fire.

——Nothing cures a hunger like a drink.
Lovely day for filing suit.

Long white-haired man in black coat
& black fedora, comes onto bus with
his five white bags, wipes nose/eyes with
coffee-shop napkin for tissue. Coughs.
No room to sit next to bags on seat. A
young bespectacled, close-cropped man
is reading but picks up book & backpack,
changes seats without a word. The book
is ‘Peace Is Every Step’. The long haired
man sits down.
——Week-old snow-ice survives on the
——course’s green up to the bunker.
Duct tape on metal thermos, cassette-
playing Walkman, listen to w/o apparent
irony or vintage-ness but maybe nostalgia.