I don't know what the hell I'm going to do when I have to retire. Shoot myself in the face, I suppose. Beats getting up and shaving... and doing what? Poking around and pretending to give a damn? Puttering about, playing at some boring, useless, sweet fuck all for the rest of the day?
I can't imagine it. I don't want to imagine it. The mere thought is curdling the beer I'm drinking.
Life without the daily grind. Sweet deal, right?
I love the daily grind. I don't want to be just another old fucker walking aimlessly about town, pants hitched up to my throat, looking kindly at strangers, pretending things matter.
I look at where I am and where I'm headed
and I want that gunshot to the face
when the time comes.
And please, I implore you: not a word to my wife. She has plans. She thinks I'm on board. She can't wait.
Nope. Uh uh.
For me, it's the full-tilt boogie
or the big sleep.
Please note: any comments will be considered, but likely disregarded.
Llewellen... fetch 'em.
2 weeks ago