The Bodega at the End of the Internet
Sir, this is a Wendy’s.
The Bodega at the End of the Internet
Sir, this is a Wendy’s.
You are killing me, fish, the old man thought. But you have a right to. Never have I seen a greater, or more beautiful, or a calmer or more noble thing than you, brother. Come on and kill me. I do not care who kills who.
He felt oddly empty now that he no longer had the key to work on—purposeless and directionless.
our political discourse has become so flat. For example, we can’t even talk about working-class people anymore. When did everybody become “middle class”? And even those of us who might objectively be “middle class” can still identify with the working class. There’s something wrong with the fact that we can not talk about the working class.
“Anyway, nothing’s changed since the Stone Age. It’s just that nobody realizes that. In the final analysis, we’re all animals,”
One should not search for an abstract meaning of life. Everyone has his own specific vocation or mission in life to carry out a concrete assignment which demands fulfillment.
It's all different now. Well no, the corporations are still mega-rich and avoid taxes, but everything else is different.
He stopped talking then. He said there wasn't much point in saying things he couldn't hear, things that evaporated in the air, things he couldn't get the taste of.