Hey, farmboy, how's it going?
Going okay, I guess my beautiful five-day weekend is almost over.
What do you mean? It's only Saturday night.
I know. I'm anticipating, what I don't know...anticipating. I do that a lot.
Yes, you do. But at least you're aware of it, and that it may not be the wisest of things to do.
Oh, trust me, I know how stupid it is. I still do it. Pisses me off. I don't know what purpose it fills.
Think about it.
(farmboy thinks for a few minutes)
It may be that I don't want the future to sneak up on me. Or something like that. I've been burned by the future before, and I ain't gonna let it fuckin' hurt me again.
So you can't, or don't...or won't...enjoy the present because you don't want to be hurt by the future?
Yeah. Something like that, I mean. I'm sure it serves some kind of fuckin' purpose but I'm not sure what it is yet.
Do you need to know?
I think it would help, yeah. I think it would be good, man.
But you're right, I'll admit that.
Right about what, farmboy?
That I don't enjoy the present because I'm afraid of the future, or something. That's a little closer. Now I just got to figure out what I'm afraid of, and then...then we'll take it from there.