on the eve of destruction
an old friend,
a Believer
quotes from the book
the passage upon which this whole hysteria hinges,
and he can see what they mean,
but it's not really the point.
he tells me that what it's all done is prompt him to examine his faith,
examine his self,
and measure his behavior against his ideals.
that's good,
I know.
for him.
for me,
one to whom gods are stories and faith is never enough,
all I can think is that I look forward to Sunday,
and Vermont woods and water,
and muddy kid feet
and no bookselling for a week,
because at least I know the trees will stay on earth with me,
and the water won't rise.
but what I find most interesting is that Hamilton and Hincapie,
his partners of yore,
waited until the day before
the end of the world
to tell the world
that the great Lance Armstrong is a cheat.
Me, I don't believe it,
what would be the point?
The Grand Tour will still cause the rise of some and the torture of many,
whether their hearts are pure or tainted.
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