I remember college friends saying to me stuff like “I probably won’t live past twenty-three cause I’m too fuckin crazy!” These are fond memories now because I see these people working at Starbucks and Crate and Barrel. The only way they really could have conceivably died by their own doing was if they walked drunkenly in front of a fuckin’ bus. Getting drunk all the time wasn’t living fast. It was just getting drunk all the time. If they had been people who drove fast cars, played russian roulette and spied for their country I might have believed them, but seeing them at three in the morning eating pancakes at the Golden Apple always let me know that they were going to make it. And that they were idiots. Rock and roll, dudes. Welcome to life past twenty-three.
(via illinoisairship)
