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Listen, I’m going to tell you a story. It does not begin with once upon a time. Most of its sentences start with “it.” It is about me.
“On Saturday I was walking my dog and not really expecting anything to happen. Sometimes I do expect things to happen but this was not one of those times. It was raining but not very hard and it was kind of windy. I was heading towards home, about to cross 32nd Ave, when a blue two-door pulled up beside me and a man stuck his head out the window and said "Hey bud, is there any chance I could get your phone number?" I looked at him with one eye and shook my head no. Then he said "What, do you have a problem with gay guys or something?" and drove away. I have only told two other people about this and each time I felt like I was lying to them. I have this idea that I will not be alone my whole life, but when it comes down to it, I can't ever imagine doing something about it. I will have to be like orange juice and squeeze the day. Maybe it will have to be slow, and not like this.”
That was my quote to put at the beginning of the story. It is not the actual story. It is about me. I would like to thank my friends, because there are so few things in life that you can count precisely on your fingers. Now let’s begin the story. Sometimes, when your friends are away, you don’t know what to do. It is easy to forget that you have them. That they are yours. All my friends are mine. I am all yours. We. The most poorly translated book I ever read was given me by one of my friends, who is not mine any more. It was called “We.” I think that this was a gross mistranslation of the Russian, because that book was not at all about me and mine. I read it all because it was given me by one of my own, and I wanted to be faithful to mine. It is not so hard to read a book when you are always thinking about someone else, if you don’t care about the book. The book was a proxy. Ok, enough about the book. Mostly, I wanted to read the whole book so that he and I could grow old together, as old as coins.
“On Saturday I was walking my dog and not really expecting anything to happen. Sometimes I do expect things to happen but this was not one of those times. It was raining but not very hard and it was kind of windy. I was heading towards home, about to cross 32nd Ave, when a blue two-door pulled up beside me and a man stuck his head out the window and said "Hey bud, is there any chance I could get your phone number?" I looked at him with one eye and shook my head no. Then he said "What, do you have a problem with gay guys or something?" and drove away. I have only told two other people about this and each time I felt like I was lying to them. I have this idea that I will not be alone my whole life, but when it comes down to it, I can't ever imagine doing something about it. I will have to be like orange juice and squeeze the day. Maybe it will have to be slow, and not like this.”
That was my quote to put at the beginning of the story. It is not the actual story. It is about me. I would like to thank my friends, because there are so few things in life that you can count precisely on your fingers. Now let’s begin the story. Sometimes, when your friends are away, you don’t know what to do. It is easy to forget that you have them. That they are yours. All my friends are mine. I am all yours. We. The most poorly translated book I ever read was given me by one of my friends, who is not mine any more. It was called “We.” I think that this was a gross mistranslation of the Russian, because that book was not at all about me and mine. I read it all because it was given me by one of my own, and I wanted to be faithful to mine. It is not so hard to read a book when you are always thinking about someone else, if you don’t care about the book. The book was a proxy. Ok, enough about the book. Mostly, I wanted to read the whole book so that he and I could grow old together, as old as coins.
