i used to think … during monsoons, ....one craps later in the morning.
Not giving a shit was becoming a problem, i had already been told and warned about this, and at numerous occasions.
Now having been told was the problem i had in life and need to change it, so i said to myself......
Okay fair enough,... if this is how the world functions.. lets look into it.
So i went about trying to figure out ways to give a shit, i observed from the greats, i read, i tried to put it into perspective, shape it..., put it into context…size it up....still no shit, how do you give a shit… got to figure this out
ahhh.. the newspaper guys is here, fuck…. he gets the newspaper delivered late in the monsoons, cause you know...ehh.. who gives a shit
Frank uncle, thatz what I called him, my neighbor from my childhood, we moved into this new neighborhood and he had recently returned after a couple of years in the middle east. He never called it gulf like the others, maybe like the others he was not at Gulf. I think he was a mechanic by trade, but he was a superb handyman, there wasn’t any gadget he couldn’t fix, not that there were a lot in the middle class neighborhood. He worked with Usha Telehost or something that sounded like that, didn’t know when he went to work, he was always at home, I always saw him greased clothes, except on the odd Sundays or around x-mas. He wasn’t your average mechanic, there would always be a strange car, outside always, a car which was not normally sighted on the roads, but once in a blue-moon would spot it at Victoria layout, Benson town, where those old people with strange English names lived. He would have stories about the owner and the car. There were vintage a quarter century ago. Guess...
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