Tuesday, September 28, 2010
There are two kinds of people in the world, those who believe there are two kinds of people in the world and those who don't.
I think that’s F S Fitzgerald.
I once lived with a philosopher. A philosopher who actually made a living by philosophizing. And he was always going on and on about the space-time continuum. Which strikes me as funny because, to any appointment, he was terminally late.
This philosopher knew where he should be, but he didn't know when. I knew when, just not where. We made an odd pair of missed connections.
G would end most conversations with, "Enjoy!" And, and ... there are so many things that disturb me when I think about G, these several years later. For example, I remember how he wanted to live a long life, even to the point of eating wheat toast dry, without any butter, as the butter might harm the heart, shorten his time.
But G didn't know about time.
And one day he put a gun in his mouth, when I was far from his space. And he has missed a sunset tonight. We'll all miss a sunset eventually, but if you eat dry toast, why the rush?
I should have been a better friend.
He knew space, I knew time. This time I was late, and somewhere else.