I wondered one recent day…what do I know, really know?

And had to admit: not much. Less every day.

That’s the kind of thing you wonder when you’ve had a drink at the end of a long week, when you don’t know if you have friends you can count on.

Then when the lights dim and the worm turns, the doubt creeps in:

Has it all been worth it?

So I had that drink. And then a few more. As you’d imagine, it wasn’t easy to do, writing this all down. The letters go all blurry at times.

But. I was clever, see.

I decided to come at it the other way ’round and do the easy list first.

  • I don’t know whether I’m the kind of person my dog thinks I am.
  • I don’t know how the color red smells.
  • I don’t know if Neverland ever was, and never, ever will.
  • I still don’t know why Justin Bieber is popular. At all.
  • I don’t know how to use ‘who’ or ‘whom’ most of the time (if anyone still cares).
  • I don’t know what anything really feels like to another. (Can’t. No one can. And that’s a damned shame.)
  • I don’t know what a Russian is going to do any day, but particularly in Ukraine.
  • I don’t usually know when I’m lying to myself, let alone you.
  • I don’t know if Oswald acted alone.
  • And I don’t know how they get the fizz in a can of soda.

 

I do know one thing: Mama Cass didn’t choke on a ham sandwich, or die from a drug overdose.

So that’s something, at least. Not a lot, but something.

What’s on your list?

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