Some gross hippies with a snare and an electric guitar and a portable amp in my car of this R train from work made me cry just now
Playing Wagon Wheel, of all things
So I guess we’re entering that phase.
This is going to sound crazy but … you don’t HAVE to go. You know that, right?
Have to go where?
If you’re about to say to Europe, don’t even
I feel angry imagining you saying that
I would like to know why the suggestion of not HAVING to go is so jarring
It’s about how I desperately want and need to get the fuck out of this life — want-want-want — not a shred of should — and how the way that I make such things happen for myself is to put some logistical thing in place that I believe to be the ultimate authority
I don’t *have* to do anything, ever
It’s why I languish
Because nothing has any authority
Boy oh boy
I have to go
Wow do I ever have to go