It is Thanksgiving. Extraordinary days require an extraordinary understanding of the world’s strings, and its stitches. Surrounded by an air of deep thoughts, and a mind full of crop circles of worldly challenges, he writes, “The man standing next to me is not going to make it big in life. He is going to end up in a job where he will have to wear a donut costume, stand on the traffic signal, and point travelers towards a whorehouse of food. Unable to feed his family, one day when his 4 year old kid will try to bite into his donut costume thinking that it is real food, he would feel disappointed, simultaneously at himself and his God.
The man behind the ticket-counter of Amtrak buys the first ticket of day for himself, but never travels. He is going to wonder about the fruitlessness of his habit in his days of senility. He is going to look at his boxes full of tickets to places he never visited; Boxes whose worth in his money was thousands of dollars, but for anyone else, it is just trash. He would go out, buy a cheap bottle of wine, drink half of it, and pour other half on the boxes of his unfulfilled ambitions, before burning the whole house down with him.
I am never going to become a writer, and I am never going to have a book in my name. But my state is not going to be as abysmal as the donut man, or the man at counter. So. Happy Thanksgiving! ”