“Give my car to Johnny Dogs,
My wine to The Garrison pub,
My horses to someone who's no work for them,
My bullets to someone who's no names to write on them,
And my guns to someone who has no use for them.
Once, I nearly got fucking everything, but nearly doesn't count.
But throughout it all, I had me family.
We are reunited now, in whichever place will have us.
Burn my body, let the ash blow.”
As you grow older, you begin to understand: your father was just a man trying his best with what he knew. Forgive him. He was living life for the first time, too.
working theory:
if you get even just a taste of the potential of building something of your own before age 25, it’s very hard to go back into the “traditional”workforce and stay there