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By Hunter S. Thompson Submitted by THX1138 Date: 2005 May 21 Comment on this Work [[2005.05.21.14.18.12722]] |
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"Are you here for good?" I said, looking up at Chenault. She smiled. "I don't know. I quit my job in New York." She looked up at the sky. " I just want to be happy. I'm happy with Fritz-so I'm happy here." I nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, that seems reasonable." She laughed. "It won't last nothing lasts. But I'm happy now." "Happy," I muttered, trying to pin the word down. But it is one of those words, like Love that I have never quite understood. Most people who deal in words don't have much faith in them and I am no exception-especially the big ones like Happy and Love and Honest and Strong. They are too elusive and far too relative when you compare them to sharp, mean little words like Punk and Cheap and Phony. I feel at home with these, because they're scrawny and easy to pin, but the big ones are tough and it takes either a priest or a fool to use them with any confidence. |