The whole point of life is to make plans that you eventually come to let go of.
Most of the interesting stuff that happens happens when predictions go awry.
So, for instance, even though the Whiskey Stop ends up being cancelled due to maybe a megaphone, and the hope of catching an earlier ferry is quashed because the creativity of dock workers succumbs to shapes from Detroit and Tokyo, the result is that everyone’s together as imagined, even though no one had any idea things would look or sound like this beforehand.
It’s a shame that all our expectations and plans don’t come out exactly as expected and planned for; on the other hand, it’s way better than forecast to achieve results that are completely unexpected. To that end, we do what we can, in spite of the fact that that which we’re unable to do defines each of us more clearly.
It’s harder, actually, to get what you don't want than what you do; that’s why it’s important to thank the Universe every day for fucking with us.
Pain is relative and fleeting; what sticks around, by contrast, are examples of people trying to do the best that they can in difficult situations. When you allow your eyes the panorama, you see fields of neon ablaze.
I came to believe in the parade of Peep’s, but who cares, really?
Especially when you get to stand around the prize pile for long enough to become a trope; honestly, I think that I’m supposed to steer clear of the assembled loot, but at the same time, one does, in the name of efficiency, at least—have an obligation to identify what hasn’t been chosen so as to pick wisely.
But that’s the point, exactly: that-which-is changes constantly, so you can never really predict how things will turn out.
Nevertheless, you can be certain the FHR will be grand, although in a manner you’d never have imagined.
Most of the interesting stuff that happens happens when predictions go awry.
So, for instance, even though the Whiskey Stop ends up being cancelled due to maybe a megaphone, and the hope of catching an earlier ferry is quashed because the creativity of dock workers succumbs to shapes from Detroit and Tokyo, the result is that everyone’s together as imagined, even though no one had any idea things would look or sound like this beforehand.
It’s a shame that all our expectations and plans don’t come out exactly as expected and planned for; on the other hand, it’s way better than forecast to achieve results that are completely unexpected. To that end, we do what we can, in spite of the fact that that which we’re unable to do defines each of us more clearly.
It’s harder, actually, to get what you don't want than what you do; that’s why it’s important to thank the Universe every day for fucking with us.
Pain is relative and fleeting; what sticks around, by contrast, are examples of people trying to do the best that they can in difficult situations. When you allow your eyes the panorama, you see fields of neon ablaze.
I came to believe in the parade of Peep’s, but who cares, really?
Especially when you get to stand around the prize pile for long enough to become a trope; honestly, I think that I’m supposed to steer clear of the assembled loot, but at the same time, one does, in the name of efficiency, at least—have an obligation to identify what hasn’t been chosen so as to pick wisely.
But that’s the point, exactly: that-which-is changes constantly, so you can never really predict how things will turn out.
Nevertheless, you can be certain the FHR will be grand, although in a manner you’d never have imagined.
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