Paint The Town Red
I find myself wondering what the true intentions of everyone who pushes forward in a line is. Do they really have something so urgent that they are justified in society’s eyes in bypassing the set order? Or are they confident enough in our collective goodwill, some would say weakness, to not question their efforts?
When it’s individuals I find myself wondering more about this. Yet the moment it’s a person with a child all questions go out the door, as it were. Or at least through the gate or other obstruction we’re all lining up to pass through. Even those in authority, who are ostensibly gatekeepers don’t question those who say they need to pass quickly.
So why do I find myself unable to push ahead. I have stuff to do. Surely it’s just as important as someone’s uncontrolled bladder. But then find myself thinking, I’d lose this time. I wouldn’t have the moments to compose my thoughts or letters to you. The boredom that comes of waiting in these ungodly queues has the benefit of preventing me from doing little else than thinking.
What good that is when I could be exploring the limits of the time-space continuum, I’m not sure. But damn if this line doesn’t move soon I’m going to have to jump in the Delorean and go to a time when this neighborhood didn’t have lines just to get into dive bars.
I need a drink Marty.
- Doc Out
Today’s art is courtesy of Rustam Ha from St. Petersburg, Russia.