poor guy
like two months ago i heard a really powerful short story on NPR. i don't remember the authors name, but she was a woman, and damn was she insightful.
a brief summary would go as follows:
"when i was young i had an imaginary friend. he and i were inseparable. my bicycle handle bars were constantly occupied by his nonexistent ass. it was great. i was never alone. we always had a wonderful time causing mischief, and never knowing what would happen next. before i knew it i was all grown up and without noticing my quixotic friend was gone. i wondered when he had left and why. i thought back on the last ten years of my life and realized what had caused the departure of my chimerical cohort... why would anyone want to sit around watching TV all day long, reading magazines, taking an occasional trip to the store, once a week renting a new release, and if it was a really special evening we would order a pizza......why the fuck wouldn't my invisible friend disappear?!"
this hit me pretty hard and made me think (and cry). i just pictured my imaginary friend that i never knew i had hanging out at my neighbor's house because they were more exciting, they were swingers, or had a scooter, i don't even know, but the fact is there could have been someone next to me during those countless hours i spent watching the simpsons and seinfeld reruns when i could have been reading them some great classic novel, taking them sky diving, watching indie films instead of block busters, laughing instead of grimacing, traveling instead of sitting on my fat rump, going to exhibit openings to get free food instead of hitting up costco, being outside instead of glued to this confounded machine.
sorry, dude, i'll try to make it up to you.