I had a memory earlier.
Around eight years ago, I was outside The Jazz Cafe on Parkway in the small hours of the morning. It was raining and I was alone – my friends were inside the club and I was considering leaving without saying goodbye. I was smoking a rollup and I felt sad. I think I was on the verge of tears. I was always on the verge of tears back then.
A drunk old tramp stumbled over to me and said,
“Burgers don’t always have to go inside buns, ya’know.”
I said, “Really?”
and he replied, “Yeah. And you’ll do well to remember that.”
I told him I’d try and he said that one day I would understand.
Well, friend, today is that day. I get it. I understand. Never has a truer word been spoken. Burgers don’t have to go inside buns. Fuckin’ A.
I wonder if that man is still alive. I have a feeling that he’s not. So I’m going to spread his words of wisdom where and when I can, on his behalf, beginning here on wordpress. Hopefully one day you, too, will understand.