All emotions are pain.
OR Save the drama for your mama.
I hit yuppie rock bottom. Standing on the platform of the 6 train at Grand Central. After work, in my suit, underground, I thought it was all over for me, pointless. Yuppie rock bottom elaborated is the general feeling of helplessness after a survey of the results of your life efforts. Lamenting my general lack of equity in my own life; no equity in real estate, relationships, career, what did all that effort, talking and loving, grad school, and late nights at the office in my twenties really add up to? Just when the cold rushing metal train whooshed us all up in its frenzy, I was considering ending it all and stepping out too early. Before the train came to a halt, the air stilled and a guitar echoed through the subway cave. Strangely rare in the subway, it was a guy playing the Blues, not a Chinese harp or a doo-wop group, but the Blues, slowly. And like molasses, it coated my brain and heart, soothing me with its own earthy sadness. I thought, here I am at my lowest and, wow, the Blues really do actually make you feel better when youre down. Really down. Blue. Which was just distracting enough to give the train enough time to let me enter it rather than be plowed by it. Being present in that moment saved me, and once again in my life, music saved me too.
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What’s money? A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do.