there isn’t much to say about anything, really, but the urge to say something is here

there isn’t much to say about anything, really, but the urge to say something is here. i’m drinking cheap beer and an occasional more expensive stout. what i’m about is setting a foundation, a standard of living by which i can set my watch for years to come. my dreams will be furtive, rife with problems i can’t solve before daybreak. my daily life will be getting my feet held to the coals over reports and spreadsheets of numbers i tried to cook nice, but didn’t quite make the crowd of boardroom beards pleased enough. every day i’m trying to stay one step ahead of showing my hand to everyone, that they might see how little i know about anything. it’s madness, really. why can’t i be retired already?

most americans manage to stake out easier positions of comfort and vantage for themselves by the time they are my age, but i didn’t. i didn’t convince enough fools back when i was 32 that i could manage a crew of kids right out of school. it’s easy, really, just book meetings, make phone calls, talk pretty, look pretty. evidently, i have always failed at the lattermost thing, and i rarely succeed at talking nice.

have you looked in the mirror lately at yourself? i did last weekend, and i didn’t like what i saw. it’s getting harder and harder to simply bike and run on the weekend and take a day off from drinking beer to melt off the fat. i’m getting fat, and i’m not sure i mind it, but i do mind the fact that i don’t mind that i’m getting fat, if that makes any sense.

do you remember the last time you had a meaningful conversation with someone you called a true friend? i don’t. i mean, i talk to my family, my wife, my kid, sometimes i still talk to my dad, but i’m talking about talking with some person who doesn’t feel obligated to be your friend because they made some vow to love you until you die or because they depend on you for food. a random friend, wrought from the churn of faces that bubble up and speak about things they care about that you don’t particularly care about except when you and them are geting paid to care about them.

you might have thought seminary would have yielded such a friend, but i can tell you that seminary is just an mba program for people who want to congratulate themselves on how virtuous they are for being less materialistic and more awakened to the social ills of their day. i mean to say, that seminary is business school for pastors, and anyone who wants to become deeply spiritually connected with other human beings is going to find themselves sitting alone outside of study rooms that have been commandeered by the most competitive of the bunch.

have you even bothered to analyze the word ‘friend’ to see if it isn’t some artificial construct, like mother’s day or american flag lapel pins? could it be that it was a useful word to denote an incredibly insincere relationship long before facebook came along and appropriated it? when you say the word ‘friend’ you bring so many otherworldly, hopelessly impossible expectations to the word, while most individuals are happy to simply know another human being who will go eat lunch with them once a month. it’s probably best to retire that word altogether until you learn to use it like a proper adult.

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