I’ve been thinking a lot about jobs. Maybe my job is to write. Maybe your job is to be written to.

But that’s such an unfair statement. So unfair. Unfair for me to tell anybody what their job is or how to do it. At least I know I would not like that very much. Even if I happened to like my job, I think I would feel resentful if somebody told me how to do it. Even if it were for my own good. Even if it were for the common good. The universal good. I’d have to step outside myself and be open to hearing somebody tell me what is good for me. I might never realize that on my own.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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