I'm jonesing for baseball season. Partly because I love baseball and partly because I don't have much of anything else going on in my life that would preclude me from watching baseball until September - or October if you're a Phillies fan.
Mostly, I wander about wondering why I'm here. It's a fruitless exercise because I don't think I'll find an answer. Baseball.
I waddle through the day ... sleep, wake, work, exercise, TV and blog. It's a cycle that finds itself back in the beginning of the circle that starts with sleep. Fruitless. Now, I'm forced to be sociable at work when I'd much rather say, "Fuck off" and let me go about my business. That isn't how work works, because we have do deal with these "people" every day. So, I suck it up and deal. It's a testament to my tolerance for pain.
And that whole Facebook thing is set to go in the shitter too. A fruitless time waster, it is.
How sad to be so old and so disgusted with life. It's a conundrum. I can understand why people live on subway grates and chuck-in the everyday life of responsibilty for a life on concrete. There has to be something better.
Doesn't there?
Life on a street grate
might not seem like such a chore
if there's nothing else.
2 comments:
I'll just be glad when winter is over and I can take my damn snow tires off. I might try more fishing this year with my 'time off.'
Love the haiku, Anthony, and I have often longed for ways to simplify my life. While I wouldn't aspire to living on a subway grate, I have noticed that the more I have, the more complex life seems to get.
There must be some kind of happy medium between homelessness and middle-class complexity. Or so I imagine. I'll let you know if I find it.
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