My wish, is that I’ll live forever.
A lot of people don’t understand that, and, I don’t understand what the fuck they’re wishing for?
A new appliance? “Oh boy, I hope I get a Roomba this year.”
What fucken planet are you on? IT’S A WISH - FUCKEN GO BIG.
A lot of people don’t understand that, and, I don’t understand what the fuck they’re wishing for?
A new appliance? “Oh boy, I hope I get a Roomba this year.”
What fucken planet are you on? IT’S A WISH - FUCKEN GO BIG.
“
| — | Lewis Black on birthday wishes. |
I was reading the metro newspaper on the 501 streetcar the other day, when I came across a tiny column quietly shouting a seethingly accurate portrayal of why I ran away to this town.
It was a doctor/therapist/psychologist/carrot type person writing about dreams. Not ‘I was walking though my workplace, naked, carrying a red lamp that somehow turned to goo, when my 3rd grade teacher wearing a dress made of purple balloons, that “I needed to steal four bananas”, while popping the balloons seductively’ type of dreams, but aspirational dreams. It was pretty much a size 17 boot up the ass of procrastination.
If you want to be writer, start writing.
If you wanted to become a better cook, turn the oven on, without putting your head inside.
If you wanted to become a better speaker, shut up and start speaking.
Regretfully, I left the copy where I found it, but couldn’t stop thinking about that little column that slapped me from the page, and the reason I was here…
