in I think July or August of 1976, when I was feeling down, for whatever seemingly important reasons at the time, and as I sat near the corner of Claremont and College in Oakland and watched assorted groups of people strolling along, I thought to myself, "they look carefree and happy," then wondered - for real - "Will I ever be carefree and happy again?"
Bear in mind: this was a beautiful summer day. I was 23 years old, in near-perfect health, had all my hair, and since I didn't own a car and walked nearly everywhere, I was in just about the best shape of my life.
And yet I was able to create a state of concrete misery for myself, out of pretty much thin air.
How enjoyable it would be to go back in time and kick that bonehead in the ass.
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