Death

I learned at an early age that life owes you nothing. You can have your whole life pulled out from under your feet like a tablecloth and guess what? The world turns. Shit goes on. I learned at an early age that the shit on you don't matter, it all rolls on. Such and such happened? Who cares. You lost so and so? Who gives a shit, move the fuck on. My own personal history plus my intrinsic Irish fatalism makes me wonder if I can feel death at all. And, to be honest, I doubt I spelled intrinsic correctly. I've worked it so that there's MAYBE a handful, as in 5, people that if they'd die, I would show some emotion...and to be honest, I probably wouldn't even then. I'm always reminded of my father telling stories of making money as an altar boy in the 50s, and I think of tipping the altar boy myself many years later...ah, well. The Irish.