When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough

I Think The '80s Created Me, In A Way, When I Look Back On That Time, But I Don't Necessarily Think That A Lot Of My Choices, And A Lot Of Things That I Did, And A Lot Of Things That Happened To Me - Or I Let Happen To Me - Were About That Decade.

Hello, Halberstam," Owen Says, Walking By. Hello, Owen," I Say, Admiring The Way He's Styled And Slicked Back His Hair, With A Part So Even And Sharp It... Devastates Me And I Make A Mental Note To Ask Him Where He Purchases His Hair-care Products, Which Kind Of Mousse He Uses, My Final Guesses After Mulling Over The Possibilities Being Ten-x.

But This Was What Happened When You Didn't Want To Visit And Confront The Past: The Past Starts Visiting And Confronting You.

I Stare Into A Thin, Web-like Crack Above The Urinal's Handle And Think To Myself That If I Were To Disappear Into That Crack, Say Somehow Miniaturize And Slip Into It, The Odds Are Good That No One Would Notice I Was Gone. No... One... Would... Care. In Fact Some, If They Noticed My Absence, Might Feel An Odd, Indefinable Sense Of Relief. This Is True: The World Is Better Off With Some People Gone. Our Lives Are Not All Interconnected. That Theory Is Crock. Some People Truly Do Not Need To Be Here.

People Can Get Accustomed To Anything, Right? Habit Does Things To People.