The Best Goddamn Salad You’ve Ever Eaten or Go Hungry
Gang, while a cliché, it is so true that life is relatively short. When, at fifty-three, I can see how fragile things are, how quickly the wakening up to the world is snuffed out on a continual basis, I comprehend a simple truth: if you can’t muster a white hot passion for the people and the world around you, that short life is a prison. I’m not a big fan of prison, so I prefer to Carpé that fucking Diem and eat the ass out of life.
How do you want to be defined? By one action? By some opinion that could evolve? By a mistake, regrettable only with hindsight? Or by the sum of your parts? Okay, do that for other people. Start the trend.