9 thoughts on “dear clusterflock

  1. Rich

    I should probably take the wise road, like Simone, and let this marinate for a while but:

    It hit me with a slow ache when I first heard. Like getting struck in the balls with a baseball, but without the initial shock of contact. Rolled over me slowly, till I was on my knees, ready to puke and not knowing why or being able to explain to anyone without balls (you see the clumsy metaphor here?) why I was rolling on the ground in agony.

    It got worse over the course of the evening, like a ruptured spleen, until I came home from work and treated my family like shit w/o their ever really knowing why. I sat in the backyard and read obits and watched that stanford speech and old commercials like an obsessed and broken hearted 13yo girl, who out of the blue realized that no, Justin Bieber was never going to marry her. They were never going to make beautiful babies. It doesn’t all end up OK.

    The lynchpin to understanding all of this is probably that for a long time I thought I could BE the next Jobs, but life beat that out of me. then I thought, maybe I can work for him, in a pathetic middle american love of compromise. Now even that’s not there anymore. I’ll try and live like I could still maybe someday be him.

    But for now I need a cup, to protect me from the next invisible baseball.

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