One thing that blows my mind is how much True Detective rattles around in my head afterward. I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, so I was in that not quite awake, probably still dreaming, headspace and I was thinking how, even at my age, the idea that life is short is an illusion (though, in fairness, so is the idea that life is long). I have all these days stretching behind me, which I have spent similarly in order to preserve the illusion that life is short. Days alike are days that blend and merge.
I’m surprised by how much my nighttime thoughts turn to my Grandpa Phillips. He’s not someone I miss, by any stretch of the imagination. But maybe being the person a living person’s mind wants to mull over and understand is, in some ways, just as good as being missed. But I was thinking of him, being 40, sitting on the toilet in the dark, thinking back on his many days. I came to no conclusions. I just felt that we both had done that.
Ha, well, this is depressing. Let’s all contemplate every bit of how awesome this looks.