Note to self

Dear Joe (or Jose)

This is your past self. You know remember me, Joe from the twenty years ago? Yes that’s right, the guy with hair down to his shoulders, earnestly scribbling on his notebook, casually taking a drag from a cigarette, quietly sipping a cup of coffee at the corner café in that bohemian borough you once called home, late in the afternoon, as the dusk clouds slowly drifted overhead.

Remember that guy? Well, I just thought I’d drop you a line to see how you are doing. You might be tucked away in some quiet neighbourhood in suburbia right now with the station wagon in the garage, working your ass off nine-to-five, five days a week at some job that doesn’t pay you enough or recognise you for your talents.

I told you this would happen. Didn’t I warn you not to go down that road? Well, well, well, did you heed the advice? Remember the deal we made back then? You told me to tell you that if this ever happened to you to remind you to go shoot yourself, right? Well, here I am reminding you of that conversation…

So what are you waiting for then? During your suicidal days, didn’t you say you would just stick around for a bit longer to find out if anything “interesting” would happen…and…well…need I say more?

But now you say that you’ve got “responsibilities”: people to look after, who are depending on you. For what? To make a living so that they can go on and have a go, a go at pursuing their dreams, something you never got around to doing. Oh, god! Excuses, excuses. Truth be told, they’d be much more content without having to put up with your miserable self!

So, anyway, I gotta go. In about ten to fifteen years, I’ll check in on you to find out how things turn out. Things better be looking on the up-and-up, otherwise, we’re gonna have to have this conversation again, alright? See ya.

Your former self,

Joe from the past