(From what I understand, the police thought they heard a gunshot and started throwing tear gas into the crowd. Correct me if I’m wrong)
This is real. This is real. This is real.
ain’t no nervous breakdowns without nerves
A few days ago, maybe Wednesday, a regular customer approached me at the side of the bar. He was holding a copy of some city paper, Robin Williams plastered on the front page, and said, shocked, “What the hell is this?”
I nodded and agreed but couldn’t help but laugh at his slow uptake. His cappuccino was steaming and he adds, “I guess fame and success aren’t everything. Maybe everybody should just make coffee. Nobody who makes coffee kills himself.” That could be a headline: NOBODY IN COFFEE KILLS HIMSELF. Which is funny! It’s so funny because this is right about the anniversary of a coworker who took her life. Which is awful. It’s awful receiving company mail addressed to a person who is no longer alive. It’s a shitty reminder of tragedy every time a telemarketer calls the store and responds to your “hello” with, “Is Emelyne available?” But, this isn’t about that, really.
But what’s it about?
I don’t know, nothing. It’s an anecdote. An anecdote that magnifies the lack of empathy shown by most people every single day. And no matter how many essays or speeches go viral, peoples’ behavior doesn’t change. Human nature, I guess. I mean, I can barely manage to stretch in the morning, and that’s something I nag myself about all the time. I can’t really expect anyone to give a shit about differing life perspectives when they’re only reminded once every few months. I don’t know, maybe yoga instructors should start working it into their chanting: Give a shit about anyone else, give a shit about anyone else, give a shit about anyone else.
Anyway, a rant. At least, apparently, I’m looking less pissed off at seven in the morning.