Here I sit; lightning flashing intermittently in the sky, completely silent. No thunder at all. Listening to the Cure, still buzzed from the beer and whiskey, still reeking of cigarette smoke because I haven't made it to the shower yet. And the absolute truth of what Luke and I said earlier in the evening is really starting to sink in and take hold. Sure, there are things in my life that could be better, and thus it follows that there are things that aren't where and what I'd prefer them to be. There are times when it seems like everything just sucks.
But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is, the life I have is a good thing. Even when it's at its lowest, it could be one fuck of a lot worse; hell, ten fucks of a lot worse. And it would still be better than most.
A small series of back-and-forth emails has just ended with The Brush-Off(tm). Should I respond with "That's cool, maybe we can get together later or something" just for the sake of politeness, or take my kicking like a man and just let the matter drop?
Geez, man, whatever happened to child-safe caps for medicine? Someone has apparently decided that the ability of the elderly to get to their pills is more important than keeping the grandkids from OD'ing. I just bought a bottle of Advil and I swear the cap on that thing wouldn't stop a developmentally disabled orangutan with three fingers and no thumbs. It's literally squeeze two big tabs with almost no resistance behind them and twist. I could open the thing with my chin.