post 5546

Je suis pas ce qu’on dit ‘a good man’. Non, je crois pas du tout. Pourquoi. Parce que je n’avais pas assez essayé? I am just a man who lives, and who does what he thinks is okay. Not even what is good or great, but just okay. I do not know. It just is.
Anyways what you might think to be good might be different. Et je peut pas vous dire que vous êtes tous faux. Non, c’est impossible. Donc, maybe in this small world, and in this life so short, it is best if I just try to be okay. And that would suffice for the moment.

Let me tell a little unrelated story.
The other night I was going home. Pretty late. Well ten, eleven-ish. Late enough for a monday night. Come to think of it, most people were at home. So it was late. And I was on one of those crazy cross country bus pilgrimages, listening to a slew of music. Alighted to transfer, and as I was walking, I felt this strange and rare joy at being out walking in the cool and empty night. It was quiet, and peaceful. I felt like going to the lakeside and just sit there the entire night just listening to music. It was a kind of gentle quietness and expanse. A little something like being in a huge empty theatre after the show is over, and faint credits play in the background.

Et c’est tout simplement, tout.

post 5546

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