Mad Libs 100

One ornery day, a peacock named Eaton went for a skip. His aged tail feathers peeled in the sideways wind and caught the gall bladder of a passing trash man.

“Salutations,” said the trash man to Eaton. “What are you ushering?”

“A narrow dreamcatcher.”

They held eyeballs and walked longingly together.

“Why do you think tolls are so lonely?” asked the trash man.

“I suppose it’s because they pace every millisecond,” replied Eaton, feeling glorious. His anthropology was googling, and the trash man’s stutter made him think of grazing bed bugs.

All of a gnu, a beluga fell from Iceland!!!

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Resolutions for a New Year

Sneeze no more than 450 times.

Shave at least 104 times.

Get invited to at least 10 birthday parties.

Hear about a minimum of 75 new music albums.

Forget the names of no more than 25% of the people I meet.

Watch at least 100 hours of videos made by other people.

Take at least 2,000 photographs.

Write down at least 200 spontaneous thoughts.

Read at least 30,000 emails and write at least 7,000.

Wear at most 12 different pairs of pants.

Keep in touch with 40% of high school friends.

Have 0 children and get married at most once.

The Royal Academy of Ice Fishing

“Sir, this doesn’t make sense.”
“Do you need a straw, soldier?”
“What? No, why-”
“So you can SUCK IT UP! Now, get your feet wet!”
“But sir, I don’t understand! If we’re gonna be ice fishing, why are we training in hot water?”
“The scalding water tempers your skin! Makes it tougher! Let’s go, soldier! Swim!”
“But sir–”
“Did you hear me, soldier? Do you want to learn to ice fish or do you want to fail miserably at the one chance you have at a livelihood? Think about your future family? How will you support them? SWIM!”
“Yes, sir.”

One Self, Two Self, Less Self, Fish Self

Writing goes in cycles between selfless observation and selfish recapitulation. I’m talking about practical uses of self.

While in observation mode, the writer dissolves himself in empathy, supplanting his own concerns with those of others in an attempt to find multi-individual narratives.

While in recapitulation mode, the writer must ensure his own comfort so that he can focus and produce a work of power.

Extensive difficulty lies in keeping the selfless and the selfish patterns separate (not necessarily temporally separate, but separate in terms of motivation, opinion, questing, etc.).

Coddle himself so he can write for others – almost sounds paradoxical!

My Bike

Where’s my bike? There’s my bike. Gotta get home. I have too much stuff in my bag. Where’s my key? There’s my key. Why’s this guy walking toward me?

“That’s my bike.”

“No it isn’t…”

“Yes it is. I recognize it. Someone stole this bike from me a month ago.”

“I’ve had this for years.”

“I recognize this – it’s mine. I painted this – and put on these stickers!”

“Buddy, I think you’re confused.”

“Man, give me my bike.”

Where’s my key? There’s my key. Let’s get the fuck out of here. “Fuck off, it’s my bike.”

“Man, fuck you!”

New Motivation

I’ve been in the habit of saying that the deepest reason of why I write is so that I don’t die when I die.

Is that self-centered? Where’s my altruism?

Also, if my writing is wholly for myself, who’s going to keep it?

I think it’s time to re-define: I want to help our species and the massive ecosystem of the universe at large through my writing. I want my writing to promote understanding, to prevent disconnection.

Of course, I still won’t die when I die. And is helping the species as a whole nonetheless a form of evolutionary selfishness?