Something that I think is significant crossed my mind tonight. I will always love Steve Austin. I don't care how many of his girlfriends he beats up, I don't care how much of an alcoholic he is, and frankly, I don't care that he walked out on WWE twice without notice. The bottom line (no pun intended) is, "Stone Cold" Steve Austin provided me with an immense amount of entertainment during the late '90s and early oughts.
Every one in a while, his name will come up in the rasslin' news and he's done something else weird and/or stupid. But I remember the man he was, the man he is capable of being. An awesome wrestler, an even more awesome brawler, who wasn't afraid to put other guys over, because he understands that wrestling is a BUSINESS.
Now, what does this have to do with anything? I'm not entirely certain. All I know is, love is a really strange thing, and sometimes, it seems like it should burn out. Like it should just fizzle and die. But then, it doesn't. It remains. It survives. It makes your knees weak and your heart ache.
I love Steve Austin for what he was, not what he is. Because I don't really know what he is anymore. He could be the same guy for all I know, but I don't really have the means to find out. And despite that, I still love him as much as I did the night of "Beeper 3:16" in December of 1997. Just... a brilliant, brilliant artist. The interviews, the ring work, the crowd control... I love him. One of the greatest ever.
Again, WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING? (Jimmy Eat World just came on, and I'm fucking pumped. "Just try your best, try everything you can". Awesome) I'm kind of drunk from the (non) Caribbean party at Franz's, and I'm just free associating. Which is FINE. But love is the tie in. Love is everything. And it just absolutely refuses to get any easier.
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