Listen to the signs. They are coming at you from all directions.
On the radio, some DJ is playing tunes and talking about... who knows. The subject doesn’t matter - it was what he said.
He says (to me): “You can call Topeka, Anchorage or even Shanghai.”
I have lived in Kansas and Alaska. So I guess I am moving to Shanghai at some point.
These small conclusions of mine keep me moving forward, follow the yellow line please, hands to yourself.
The Universe has spoken. This is what she had to say: “Bunny. You are moving about too fast. You need to slow down. You are going to burn out in a heap of ashes that will blow away in the wind. Do this now.” Yea. Totally gave The Universe the finger.
I worry a lot about heart attacks after reading about an artist who worked non stop until he dropped dead at 40. I don't want to drop dead at 40. Or 45. I could eat more green things and declare cheese is of the devil. Green things are good.
There is this box in my closet. My mother gave it to me years ago. She had always mentioned it as the box that I would get when she died, which is pretty morbid, not in the sense that we were talking about her death – more that I was like getting a prize at that point.
I suppose I should feel a little weird that suddenly she decided to give it to me. The death box was passed to me before the death. Did she THINK she was going to die? Did she WANT to die? Did she DIE and I not know it? What are you trying to tell me?
My Mother the Zombie. “Hey mom, can you eat that guys face off? Holy shit, my mom is eating that guy's face off; you are such an awesome mom.”
So, the box contains all this stuff from my childhood. Report cards, school pictures, awards, doodles she found laying around… garbage really. It isn’t like I ever go through the box. It was obviously not important enough for me to have kept these items, or I would have. Yet, I am compelled to hold on to the death box because she bothered to save all this shit for me over the span of 18 years. Stupid death box. I could own 5 more sweaters if it wasn’t for you.
On second thought, don't tell me what to do.