It’s commonly said by “deep” individuals and other ridiculous sources that a person should “live in the moment”. The more I talk to other people(which isn’t much) I realize how little the people who expound this idea do it, even though it’s a decent sentiment.
There is no time I’ve been more aware of how much they’re not doing it than when I’ve had girlfriends. “My ex used to...”, “I remember when my parents...”, “I remember when I...” Really? Who even keeps track of this shit? There’s 1- 467,200 more hours ahead of you to live. It’s as if there’s flowers in front of you and you take time to smell the dirt.
It would be respectable enough if the memory had some application to the present of the future, but when I listen to “past-oriented” individuals it’s like verbal intercourse that’s half-limp and half-dry with no climax for either party. I wonder at the same time how many more delightful memories they’re squandering right now day-dreaming about some outmoded version of themselves living in an environment that would be pointless to go back to, even if it were possible.
So I was driving to work, the sun was shining, there was some low-income youth taking a 40 back to his rented one-bedroom apartment/possible squat, a total prick driving a teched-out foreign car in front of me, and it occurred to me just how much more committed I am to these strangers than I am to the people in my memory. All the ex-girlfriends, ex-friends, ex-feelings and my ex-life have less effect on me than if the car in front of me comes to a sudden stop or that urban youth bought the last St. Ides special brew. I focused my eyes and smiled.
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