I begin each day
with at least two coffees.
Or espressos.
Sometimes black tea.
I often second-guess myself.
And third-guess.
And fourth-guess.
I love the feeling of drinking a cold beer
in the sunny, hot afternoons
on my first days visiting Florida in the winter.
I hate heat.
I hate Florida.
I don’t really like beer very much anymore, either.
Christ, I’ve drunk a lot of beer.
Iron City. Schlitz. Stroh’s. OE800.
Expensive Michelob, overrated Coors, and many more;
and that’s what I drank long before they invented IPAs
and all those other pretentious excuses
for charging extra
for a simple, clean beer.
Don’t get me started
on the whole drug thing.
So much money,
so few memories.
I like fresh, local vegetables.
Anything you buy in a store that has a door —
C-Town, Whole Foods —
is never going to be half as good
as the tomato
your bent old grandmother used to grow.
I hate when people talk
about the good old days.
Someday I’m going to write
a scientific philosophy paper,
unveiling Bob’s Law to the world:
“The better the technology gets,
the worse the content
provided by that technology.”
They’ve got 8K TVs
as big as a fucking bus,
and on them you can watch
The Bachelorette
in freaking high-definition horror.
But I love watching TV.
There, I admitted it.
Classic movies,
anything with Keanu
(except that John Wick shit),
and that show on HBO
with that guy on it.
Sex is good,
but I guess that’s something
we almost all share.
Sex, eating,
and clumsy body modifications:
things all cultures share.
I hate narcissists.
Especially when they talk over me.
And definitely
when they’re more clever than me.
Fuckers.
I hate Americans
even more.
I mean, sure, French people suck.
Canadians from Alberta.
Russians, too.
Sometimes Singaporeans,
but I know Americans,
and they’re all bad.
Did I mention
that I hate when people talk
about the good old days?
The days always sucked.
But the days are getting even worse.
Every day is the best day
of the rest of your life,
because they’re all going to be worse than today.
And today sucked.
I love being alive.
Love it.
Watch a friend die,
watch your family slowly disappear,
and yes, it’s sad, of course.
Heartbreaking.
But one day,
maybe a week later,
maybe a year later,
you get it.
It’s good to be alive,
right here,
right now.
Even through all the pain
and bullshit.
I love being alive.
