Wednesday 3/20/24
The masterpiece bell. Another one done: "Why I Hate My Friends." On to the next.
"These are things I turn over in my mind at breakfast with my wife and daughter and we’re all focused to various degrees on what our respective days will entail. I used to hope that the latter would think that I was pondering cool subjects like the stock market and how I was about to take my consistent, quietly heroic self up to the roof to muck out the gutters without requiring acknowledgement of my efforts—for I was the kind of man who just did what needed doing—or whether she should put bluster aside and ask me about her shooting form before tonight’s game and if her elbow was itself doing what it was supposed to be doing. But the truth is I would be happy with knowing that she was thinking about me at all, whenever she does. Not for this or for that. But because. A because in need of nothing further, including the fulfillment of the rest of a sentence. And I mean that in a totality of gratitude sense rather than some kind of defeatist, 'I’ll take what I can get' concession within myself. It’s hard to let people know what we think. It’s hard to know what we think, you could even say."
This work will be in Become Your Own Superhero: Intrepid Exceptions to Modern Fiction.
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