I wasn’t going to write an entry. If I were to ever give any advice about journal keeping it would be this; write an entry especially when you wasn’t a’gonna. I would say this advice loud and slow because anyone asking advice on journal keeping of me is some fraction of wit below 100 percent. I am always suspicious of obvious half wit moves, I feel like a large sum of money is about to change hands and mine will be the empty hands.
I was watching a movie the other day, some British romantic comedy, and in the end the montage to some 90’s British pop tune was old people holding hands walking in the park or sitting on a bench or someplace fuzzed out as the camera focused on the old folks holding hands from behind, in front, and camera angled decapitated/taken out at the knees.
I am both nostalgic and cynical. I’ve had that almost teary moment with a majority of significant others, the one where you are together in a park and see and old couple and one you chokes out ‘that’ll be us one day’. Yeah, no it won’t. I guess I mean, sure it will, individually, with some other wrinkly, demented significant other. Most clichés become clichés by, um, being clichés. That could have been a better sentence had it tried harder. You probably already knew what I meant.
One day you and I will be old folks in the park making fun of all the young couples getting choked up at seeing us “Aww look honey, those dotty old folks seem to be awfully jolly, they keep looking at us and laughing”. We will wipe tears of laughter from our eyes and try to make some personal remark and realize we only know one anothers screen days, from the good old days before the web was an ocular implant.
Be nice.
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