Fugacious.

In like a lion they all say, and until Jennie said it many weeks ago I must admit I'd yet to hear it said. But isn't that just like me, willfully deaf for no good reason but laziness, or maybe it's the drunkeness or the bitterness or the who-gives-a-shitness that does it. Last night we glided about the old neighborhood, stopped here and there to do naught but marvel at how much things have changed, never once noticing how much has stayed the same. And isn't that just like us, moving on and on and on and never once appreciating or questioning or noticing where the hell we are now.

It's snowed a fair bit tonight, and earlier I was planning my plans to excuse myself from working at work, if not work itself. But even if I do not work indeed my days would pass thinking all about it, about all that I am missing by missing it, about how my time could be better spent or saved or wasted if only I'd stuck to my guns and did what needed to be done from the start. If ever in life a person could make a world of difference if only given the opportunity to KNOW WHAT I KNOW NOW, you better believe that the world would be different if only in the slightest of ways. Maybe Winston would have a baby sister. Maybe my baby sister would have a better big sister. Maybe my big sister would have a better father. Maybe my father would know how old I am now. But the thing with life as well as the snow tonight is that the best laid plans are ultimately lifted, and whatever snow emergency it was that I had hopes to rely upon has lifted as well.

Tonight I read the saddest thing I ever did read, and no, I did not cry. Instead I chuckled a bit, took a sip of my vodka soda, and moved my cursor up to the right hand corner of my screen, clicked that little X and chuckled once more. Sometimes it's simply laughable to look back upon the things that, well, you have yet to look back upon.