The only thing notable, it seems, about the road he has taken is that he did, in fact, take it. 42 is old enough to realize that things often don’t work out “better” or “worse”; they just work out differently.
Author: J Dot
I’m not crazy about the idea that my imagined existence as a yeoman famer turns out to be nothing more than three prison guards in a trench coat. I’m even less enthused by the realization that Nelson Rockefeller doesn’t give a damn about me.
To quote Public Enemy’s Chuck D, “My wanderin’ got my ass wonderin’ where Christ is in all of this crisis.” The eschaton, it seems, has been delayed.
It may take a minute, or an hour, or a lifetime to fully wrap your head around something so unimaginable. It may take a minute to stop looking for the life in a tomb.