I can and I do bitch all day about the queasy terror of the Big Whatevaâ€”and it is. Terrible with a capital T. But oh, my god, the sweetness! Of the sitters in the zendo, of the bike shop boyz. Of all the many sad wanderers. We are all just wandering down the path, sweet and sad.
And for all its nail-biting uncertainty I know my life is solid. Solidly real as the lives of the accountants and the grandparents, as real as the rocks and the trees. As real as clouds.
I don’t own anything or anyone. No permanence, no security, no insurance, no guarantee. Well sherlock â€” no shit. We’re all freaks, every one of us. Just crazy little snowflakes floating free.