It's All so Strange, so Funny
Sometimes, I can’t help but laugh at the way Simon’s hair grows, at Tony’s inability to sit still, at Melissa’s enjoyment of beer tastings, at Scaramucci’s resignation after ten days, at the Reds hopeless season, at my inability to touch my toes, at the thought of whistling a tweet every time someone says Trump, at the idea that economics is life, at my forgetting this moment won’t last, at my own seriousness, at my impatience, at my preference for tea to water, at my secret desire to do something great, at my basic neediness to love and be loved, at my inability to control the Universe, at the fact I can see no farther than my own death, at protecting my ego from its inevitable dilution into that solvent we call Life. It’s all so strange, so funny.
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