Saturday, April 4, 2026
If you’re basking on the sidewalk at a Parisian cafe, sipping a cappuccino and relishing a warm, buttered croissant, you might see people walking “with a purpose.” I love airports for this; I like watching people walk with that specific urgency, many conducting business on phones, signifying multiple purposes at once.
To walk “with a purpose” is disguised urgency—a gotta-have-it, stick-up-the-butt prodding which signifies that you and your urgency are of utmost importance. That’s what walking “with a purpose” is: a stick up the butt.
To do something “on purpose,” rather than “with purpose,” is of a different, cheeky quality. If everything was done on purpose, life would be lavish. Time vanishes for the writer who writes on purpose and for the walker who walks on purpose. For the urgent, everything is done as a means “with” purpose. What pain!
For the cafegoer who sips coffee, moistening a pastry’s buttery extravagance on the tongue while basking in the morning sun, there is nowhere to be and nowhere to go. There is nothing but time. The urgent have nothing but “butt pain.” It’s the dreaded “with” purpose we want to examine.
For those with no time, yield to them. They are walking and conducting their lives “with” a purpose, so they have extra “oomph,” urgency, and import. But as for me, I’ve got nothing but time.
If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll sit a while. My pants are not on fire. Do you know whose pants are on fire? The one “with” a purpose—the liar, liar. The one on purpose has nothing but time; they have no fire to put out. They’re basking, which means “lie in warmth.” They aren’t “put out.” Those walking “with a purpose,” however, are no longer able to put me on like that. That’s butt time, mere stickups. I’ve got nothing but time.