Steady, As I Go

Stay close to anything that makes you glad you are alive.

Writers of the world unite, you have nothing to lose but your brains.

I’m going to kill the president.
I promise. I surrender. I’m sorry.
I’m gay. I’m pregnant. I’m dying.
I’m not your father. You’re fired.
Fire. I forgot your birthday.
You will have to lose the leg.
She was asking for it.
It ran right under the car.
It looked like a gun. It’s contagious.
She’s with God now.
Help me. I don’t have a problem.
I’ve swallowed a bottle of aspirin.
I’m a doctor. I’m leaving you.
I love you. Fuck you. I’ll change.

when you dont have a lot of spending money, the city feels like a shitty videogame you accidentally found a way to enter yourself into. but there’s no goal. no way to ‘power up’ or get a ‘free guy.’ the only thing you can do is walk around looking at things. every store, restaurant, art gallery, yoga place, dance place, carwash place, etc, they just look at you like “fuck do you want.” and you walk by scowling at people enjoying themselves. but you don’t even want to be there with them. you want to ask them what they’re doing. like, you can see what they’re doing, but no, like, really, ‘what are you doing.’ and you start thinking you’d trade a million friends for one or two solid, indestructible enemies. a war. you think about how if a war suddenly broke out in chicago, you’d immediately know what to do. you’d have a purpose. people would follow you. they’d look at you and you’d go from ‘shithead scowling on street’ to someone they needed. and after you won the war, you’d put everybody back into the restaurants/stores and lock them in, to be looked at by people passing by outside.

Whatever you desire is already connected in some way to who you are and what you now have. Find that way, follow the connection.