sorry, but I have it pretty good. I found myself comparing my horrible first-world problems, which are mostly just variations on the theme of privileged angst, to a homeless guy whose shopping cart overflowing with collected recyclables overturned and spilled all over a section of the sidewalk that blocked an alley. Of course a car just appeared as if by magic, the driver demanding to know the meaning of this temerity of just being there, while the homeless guy scrambled to clean up the mess and allow the driver free passage.
And after witnessing this, I confided to my terrier Duffy, I know how that guy feels. Duffy just said fuck you, you have no idea.
He’s right. I have no idea.
Delicate Flower On A Rocky Crag 