I want to record the sound of my peeing in a toilet bowl and package the recordings in an app for people to listen to in order to help them fall asleep. Or do other stuff to it.
Prince died. So did the female wrestler Chyna. David Bowie died recently. I wrote a thing about that then.
You really can’t go wrong owning a funeral home.
It’s sad, but if we all lived forever we’d never experience loss and, therefore, appreciate life. Only in the transience is there something to yearn for.
I watched Crocodile Dundee, that helped. It has an underrated score. Stirring.
It’s better to be 15 minutes late than 45 minutes early.
The leafless trees looked like matchsticks stuck standing up waiting to be struck.
The leafless trees looked like boar bristles in a lady’s bone-handled brush.
The leafless trees looked like elongated Tootsie Rolls stolen from their wrappers and piled across in a line.
The leafless trees looked like E.T.’s fingers multiplied by 10,000, not calling for home, but content to be lost in a faraway land because the possibilities were worth the fear of not belonging or never being found, and they would caress every second that time, or whatever entity invented time, allowed them to exist and simply be.
The leafless trees looked liked dozens of dicks with bushes like pubes.