It’s a Sunday night, and I am in Rochester, New York.
I don’t care where you are; “It”, doesn’t matter.
Most matters of the moment are fleeting when compared to figuring out what matters most.
If you’ve stumbled across us, and stayed, there is unrest in you.
There is questioning; There is a spark of dissent.
*Something* is brewing.
Something has hit a nerve- likely with good reason- and now you live determined to stand for or against
(as you should), or concede, and sit on your hands with your head down…
Like you’re supposed to.
(Standing won’t look the same for everyone, and doesn’t need to, but it always looks different than sitting).
Real “standing” draws risk, but the greatest peril lies in not doing anything at all;
Losing yourself to a world of thoughtless, societally-engineered (and preferred), physically and mentally sedentary, voluntary mediocrity.
On a cold, forgettable night in Rochester, New York:
I would rather die right now
standing on my own terms,
than let anyone kill me slowly,
sitting on theirs.