Not afraid to die
The lesson of the necklace. Which is broke. Was lost. Like the fucking ring. Which was stolen.
Not that any of it really matters. Which is probably the real lesson.
If you're looking for one.
I used to be. Looking for the answer. Or at least the lesson. I'm not so sure anymore.
A combination of steroid withdrawal and the after effects of reading Life of Pi by Yann Martel.
There's a line in that book, in the beginning, where an old man tells the author that he has a story that will make you (or him) believe in God.
My tiger on a lifeboat story is ---- was the one about the necklace. It was even a mantra of sorts for awhile. 'Remember the lesson of the necklace' I would tell myself.
That necklace broke a few months ago. At the time, I put it into a zip lock bag for safe keeping and made a mental note to take it to a jewelry store for repair. Something I've yet to do. Which is odd considering a few weeks later my Mom's wedding ring was stolen from a dresser drawer, we believe, by some shady painters working for a dipshit of a contractor who was doing some remodeling in our house. They also stole a couple of beers, a large box of pokemon cards, and a cordless razor. A week later they returned and stole a non-working weed eater. I'm sure other things are missing. Thing we haven't realized yet. Not that any of it really matters. It's just stuff. That can be replaced. But the ring. Not so much.
If I was looking for a lesson would there by one, beyond letting go?
Which again with the begin was the original lesson which was lost. Like the fucking ring. Which was stolen.
Until I BLOG again...I'm still a firefly.
Not that any of it really matters. Which is probably the real lesson.
If you're looking for one.
I used to be. Looking for the answer. Or at least the lesson. I'm not so sure anymore.
A combination of steroid withdrawal and the after effects of reading Life of Pi by Yann Martel.
There's a line in that book, in the beginning, where an old man tells the author that he has a story that will make you (or him) believe in God.
My tiger on a lifeboat story is ---- was the one about the necklace. It was even a mantra of sorts for awhile. 'Remember the lesson of the necklace' I would tell myself.
That necklace broke a few months ago. At the time, I put it into a zip lock bag for safe keeping and made a mental note to take it to a jewelry store for repair. Something I've yet to do. Which is odd considering a few weeks later my Mom's wedding ring was stolen from a dresser drawer, we believe, by some shady painters working for a dipshit of a contractor who was doing some remodeling in our house. They also stole a couple of beers, a large box of pokemon cards, and a cordless razor. A week later they returned and stole a non-working weed eater. I'm sure other things are missing. Thing we haven't realized yet. Not that any of it really matters. It's just stuff. That can be replaced. But the ring. Not so much.
If I was looking for a lesson would there by one, beyond letting go?
Which again with the begin was the original lesson which was lost. Like the fucking ring. Which was stolen.
Until I BLOG again...I'm still a firefly.
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