I have a lot on my mind right now. I’m thinking about work, how much I have left to do, but how little time I have to do it. I’m thinking about school, why I should continue, and what would happen if I didn’t. I’m thinking about cars, gas prices, and being genuinely concerned about money-I never knew gas at only a quarter a gallon. I’m thinking about travel, far away places written about in old books we don’t read anymore. I’m thinking about children and a family. I’m wondering myself how I can want and not want that simultaneously. I’m thinking about thinking, and demanding that that leave me alone.
Most of all, though, I’m thinking of a place. There’s a smoky railway car there, filled with people on their way the the big city, hoping for fresh start in the morning, or at least the chance for a drink before bed. Some others are in amber-lit bars and indigo nightclubs, lounging, because they can afford not to be involved. Everyone darts around with defined strut, the kind full of brash confidence that comes with winning a war and owning the world. They walk under soaring skyscrapers in perpetual twilight, and the men thank themselves for being clever enough to blot out the sun. It’s a sardonic place: men harasses their compliant secretaries in the elevator, black waiters strive not to seem too uppity, and jewish men work for jewish agencies. Yet, only the liars are the ones telling the truth.
I don’t know this place first hand, but I wish I did. Life seems to be nothing more but an ad for tomorrow, and in my waiting, I’ve uncovered myself in the past. I have a job and money, and talent and schooling. I have people to talk to, and parties to attend. In this different world, I might have been successful: young, handsome, and a navy hero-a real american winner. I’d have been the guy who let other guys know what kind of guy I was, just so the girls might know what kind of girls they should be. I’d have taken an Old Fashioned in company, but just a bottle in the office. My white shirt would never show wear, because I’d have extras pressed in my desk drawer. I’d always look smart, dark, and successul. I recognize the grandeur in luxuriating in this past, and affirm just how lucky we are to be here.