sincerity? oh, how banal. drugs experiences? symbolically bankrupt. freud all the way, friends. friendship? outdated? outmoded? handshakes irrelevent. persistence is suicide, irrelevance is inevitable, meaning is a fleeting preoccupation with itself. drinking is deck chairs on the titanic. deck chairs on the titanic, as a phrase, is as useful as deckchairs on the titanic. frankly, I am going to buy a lot of books by sam pink, as soon as he writes them.

read the italian futurist manifesto, I dare you. try to do something meaningful past the irony of its attempt at meaning before that document becomes one hundred years old. you wouldn’t dare.

really, what I’d like to do is get my pilot’s license. I think it’s been long enough. I’d like to take all the tests, ace them, know everything about flying planes that I could without getting into an actual plane. I’d like to make friends with all the airplane people. I’d give my pilot’s license instructors presents at the end of each class. they would be appropriate to our working relationship. I would have a best friend. he would be smarter than me, so I’d exaggerate. then, when I’d have to get into a plane for the first time, I wouldn’t show up. I wouldn’t explain. what I want is messages on my voicemail: instructions for waiving tuition. bewildered questions about what it all means. am I afraid of heights? am I afraid of planes? aren’t we all, on the inside, afraid of heights and planes? and so on.

oh, why. my umbrella broke in the car wash. I am in debt to the library again. I am in possession of two pairs of broken headphones- one pair with a left headphone, the other with a right headphone. there are holes in all my socks. I have an electric toothbrush with no batteries and an electric toothbrush with rechargeable batteries, but the charger is elsewhere.

when asked, in high school, what I would do with the power of invisibility, I replied: disappear. my answer hasn’t changed. make of this what you will, powers of invisibility.