…..he found himself wandering aimlessly through this thing called life, lost without a roadmap, unsure what his purpose was for being alive, conjecturing about possibilities yet woefully nescient when it came to probabilities, stumbling clumsily through every happenstance he encountered not unlike a drunk in an opera house…..and he didn’t have one fuckin’ clue what the next day might hold in store for him and, what’s more, he really didn’t give a roaring shit either. Because, after all, without a plan for life—without goals and dreams to objectify and then target as part of a much greater mission…….what is the value of owning a life anyway? What is the transcendent purpose of it? None that I can think of…..
Fred's Soapbox 