What kind of dude am I, that I'm here ... listening to Christopher Cross on the jukebox ... drinking my Dragonfly IPA?
What does it mean, if anything? - nothing, zip, nada, null, nunya.
Some dude castigated me last night on STEEMIT for proposing that my life of working, paying bills, being a debt-slave, is bullshit -- he was providing the "normie argument" for obedience, compliance, conformity, and making sure the credit card companies get their share. Me? I made sure to withdraw almost all my cash from my checking account today - which I intend to do, every 2 weeks, on payday, as long as I'm employed in my new "normie job". Like I said, in another post, it's a good job and I will likely do good work for them, and all parties will be happy. I found one, last, chair ... maybe ... before the music stops.
And "Sailing", by Christopher Cross, continues to play - I tried to strike up a conversation with the bartender, but she is not on my wavelength, and that's ok too. Her job is crap, she gets paid crap, her future, like mine, is crap.
My wavelength is special, particular to my madness - no one gets it, and that's cool too.
... but ...
I don't regret this Dragonfly IPA, or the relative calm of a bar, a tavern, at the "end of the word".
What do we drink of here? (think of)
What we drink about is simple - awaiting the ongoing train of reality, headed right at us, at full steam.
And sipping an IPA isn't the worst thing in the world to do ...
(at the end of the world)
