Life is transitory. We’re in a state of decay, or so they say. We don’t die. We undergo a complete metamorphosis into dust and bone. We feed the insects and soil and become flora and fauna and life all over again. Or so they say, If I had the answers I’d be more like them.
I went out last night to the Dresden Room. My friend John is the manger. He and I like to talk about politics. He claims he has no political affiliation, but I don’t believe him. I haven’t pressed him on the subject. Politics seems to meld into one purposeless argument of who's right and who's wrong. The things that matter are lost in the details. John and I talk friendly and try to listen more than convince. I lean to the left of the political spectrum on account of my proletariat upbringing. I side with the workingman, but I want to be more like an aristocrat and not work at all. I don’t mind working, as long as I’m working at something I like. I don’t need much. I was thinking of ways to live without money yesterday. I was immediately hung up when I thought about my student loan and transportation, not to mention food. I could ride a bike, and plant a garden and then pull a Wall Street and bailout on my loan all together, but who wants to be like them, like Wall Street.
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