2012-07-18 - 1:18 p.m.
What if, when we die, our minds and souls go on, getting older and older, and they've got front-row seats to what goes on down here? My grandfathers, sitting together, eating peanuts, wondering why I gave up music, wondering when I'm going to go fishing again? Wondering if I'm happy, if my mom's happy, if my brother's going to get his shit together. A big arena, with seating and cots in the concourse, for napping, vendors selling Coors and Italian ices, whole sections full of our insides which I'd like to think don't ever die.
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