Look, I Said I'm Sorry. What More Do You Want From Me?

—Dan Corrigan, Bud Blanchard, Motivational Speaker. Omaha, Nebraska, 1978.

…he does not notice that he has reached the age of forty-five; then suddenly he realizes that all the time he has been acting and making a fool of himself, but it is now too late to change his way of life. Once in his sleep he suddenly hears like the report of a gun the words: ‘What are you doing?’–and he starts up all in a sweat.

–Chekhov, Notebooks

But the sadder and more troubled they were, the more they yearned for omnipotence. The really troubled ones believed they had it.

–Ross MacDonald, The Zebra-Striped Hearse

I’m not going to lie to you. I could sit here and throw words at you until the cows come home, but who the hell really wants the cows to come home or even pretends to understand what that phrase means? I don’t suppose it means a damn thing to anybody, including farmers. Do cows really run away from home? And, supposing they do, would you actually sit around waiting for them to come home? I’d think you’d probably have to go looking for them, and if it was up to me I doubt that I’d bother. I’d say the hell with the delinquent cows. Let somebody else stun them, slit their throats, and hack them up into meat.

I guess I’m feeling pretty much the same way about words right now.