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1. I am highly skeptical that there is life after this life, and still I'm pretty hopeful that, if there is an afterlife, and if it turns out to be the kind they always tell you to expect if you're good and kind and generous, it will smell just like that gorgeous scent of a brand new plastic shower curtain and I somehow will never get sick of that particular smell. This presumes, also, that I manage to somehow get in.
2. Cars should have happy faces. I don't understand why cars all look angry or concerned these days. Even the presumably happy-faced cars, like the Mini and the Neu Beetle, look too cagey, like they're hiding something. Fun little cars from Honda and Nissan still look cross, and those really square Scions look like they're fretting about some mysterious issue they just don't want to talk about. Is it really so wrong for a car to have a happy little smile that made you want to name it, or did the accumulation of discarded medications in the water supply make everyone's penis shrink to the point that we need, as a culture, to cover our shame with angry car faces that look all pissed-off and steroidal? BTW, I drive a Metro, which is both wryly smiley and not remotely overcompensatey, so maybe I was drinking different water.
3. On some level, I'm convinced that true happiness in a relationship will only come to me in the form of a North African boxer with a tendency to stop in the middle of a bout of pugilism to rhythmically recite the lines to my favorite songs in sign language in perfect time with the music. I may, therefore, have to get a cat and the DirecTV Plus package…
4. I have changed my mind about clothesline trees. They are now acceptable.
5. My favorite restaurant, Sabang, has disappeared from Wheaton in the two years since I last went, and has been replaced by some damn mexican place. I don't even know how to find another Indonesian restaurant and now I despair at the thought of having to go to New York or LA or somewhere expensive to get rendang and those little squiggly custardy rice balls of joy in caramel. I think I can learn to make es cendol, but what's the use? We're all gonna die, frustrated and sad, and that is beautiful.
6. My obsessive daydreams that don't involve cars are now primarily centered around my mental planning of a new and completely amazing replacement outhouse for my cabin. Beadboard…solar vent stack…little wall mount urinal so you don't have to aim into the pit…fancy wooden toilet seat…electric light…maybe a heater for wintertime… It all just boggles the mind, but I still daydream of reading a book in there as trains come and shake the walls around me.
7. Someone needs to make dish soap that smells like honeydew melon.
P.S. Ray Milland.
2. Cars should have happy faces. I don't understand why cars all look angry or concerned these days. Even the presumably happy-faced cars, like the Mini and the Neu Beetle, look too cagey, like they're hiding something. Fun little cars from Honda and Nissan still look cross, and those really square Scions look like they're fretting about some mysterious issue they just don't want to talk about. Is it really so wrong for a car to have a happy little smile that made you want to name it, or did the accumulation of discarded medications in the water supply make everyone's penis shrink to the point that we need, as a culture, to cover our shame with angry car faces that look all pissed-off and steroidal? BTW, I drive a Metro, which is both wryly smiley and not remotely overcompensatey, so maybe I was drinking different water.
3. On some level, I'm convinced that true happiness in a relationship will only come to me in the form of a North African boxer with a tendency to stop in the middle of a bout of pugilism to rhythmically recite the lines to my favorite songs in sign language in perfect time with the music. I may, therefore, have to get a cat and the DirecTV Plus package…
4. I have changed my mind about clothesline trees. They are now acceptable.
5. My favorite restaurant, Sabang, has disappeared from Wheaton in the two years since I last went, and has been replaced by some damn mexican place. I don't even know how to find another Indonesian restaurant and now I despair at the thought of having to go to New York or LA or somewhere expensive to get rendang and those little squiggly custardy rice balls of joy in caramel. I think I can learn to make es cendol, but what's the use? We're all gonna die, frustrated and sad, and that is beautiful.
6. My obsessive daydreams that don't involve cars are now primarily centered around my mental planning of a new and completely amazing replacement outhouse for my cabin. Beadboard…solar vent stack…little wall mount urinal so you don't have to aim into the pit…fancy wooden toilet seat…electric light…maybe a heater for wintertime… It all just boggles the mind, but I still daydream of reading a book in there as trains come and shake the walls around me.
7. Someone needs to make dish soap that smells like honeydew melon.
P.S. Ray Milland.
