I’m hitting the road for a 20-hour roadtrip today to hang out with my brother in the Victorian high country. And I’m taking my dog Chunky.
Now… I’m pumped about it and when playing with Chunky I’ve told him many iterations of how pumped I exactly am about it. You know: ‘We’re going on a roadtrip, Chunky.’, ‘We’re heading out on a roadtrip Friday, Chunklesman’, ”The boys are heading on a roadtrip this weekend, Chunklesman united’, ‘Roadtrip Friday, Chunky. Wooshy wooshy woo. Wooshy wooshy woo. Wooshy wooshy woo.’ You know how it goes. Standard procedure.
But Chunklesman united doesn’t give a fuck.
That’s Friday night. When I said it to him it was not Friday night. The future doesn’t matter. It does not exist. Because it never actually comes. So Chunky only gives a fuck about now. Because that’s all that exists. That’s all that’s important. And if we worry, or look ahead to the future, it is at the expense of the only real thing that exists – this moment, now.