down, but never on my knees
I have thought about calling Jill to tell her that I am moving to Atlanta, and to tell her that I won't forget her. Ultimately, I can't imagine what the point of such a call might be. I feel so much better for not having talked to her.Other girls come and go, and I don't tell them about her, about my Waterloo. Everyone is their own little pot of horror, simmering and waiting to spill. I can't be bothered, i just want to forget about it and get on with life.
I don't drink often, and I am slowly cutting out the smoking. I am the captain again, and not even sneering for having stood up despite Liliputian ropes staked down on all sides. I was down, but never on my knees.
This is the story of someone who made it, but doesn't have the time for the cheap tokens that triumph comes with.
I remember reading about Richard Feynman winning the nobel prize. Someone called him in the middle of the night to tell him he had won and he said "Well, do I have to accept?". The person on the other end of the line indicated that to not accept would cause even more hubbub than accepting.
I like Richard Feynman, the world is a sadder place for his loss.
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