being poor

you know, i don’t mind being poor. i really don’t.

all that other is just a bunch of “stuff” that really doesn’t matter at all.

i can’t drink as much as i used to. that has changed at least three things in my life.

my liver is happier, i’m losing weight, and i sleep better.

i can’t travel as much as i would like but, then, i don’t have to contend with the TSA.

i win that one.

i read more, my meditation is clearer and more meaningful, my dreams are more often lucid, and i have more sunrise moments.

that’s a score.

i don’t get to eat as much rich food…

…but i’ve always liked baleadas and pasta anyway.

and it pisses off the crackhead who’s been breaking into my house because i really don’t have anything worth stealing.

that’s a plus.

but what is it with people who think that everyone who’s poor and has no sex life is
a frickin’ priest?

listen up, i don’t want to hear your sad stories.

why don’t you find somebody with a couch and a pipe and tell them about it?

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