My dreams, they all look like the back of my eyelids.
My dreams have wings. But not soaring eagle wings, more like the wings of a butterfly—colorful and easily ripped off. The last time my dreams got ripped off was when I shopped at Walmart, the place where freedom soars like a caterpillar under the f...
I make love with my eyes closed, because I make love in my dreams. If you wanted to go for seconds, we could, because I make love buffet style.
My eyes were blurry from being in love, and my feelings were as furry as Bigfoot. I thought I spotted Her, the women of my dreams, but the other cryptozoologists thought I was hallucinating. They chided me saying, “If there is no picture, there is ...
When I write my dreams down, I can relive my sleep when I am awake.
When I see a cop’s lights behind me at two in the morning, and I have my disco ball dangling from my rearview mirror, it’s like, Hey, a party! Especially if I’ve been drinking.
Learn how to read by taking small sips first. Drink my watery literary nipples.
I want to invent a drug to help people get off drugs.
My drug of choice is love. Sure, I’ve tried other drugs, but no other drug gets both the dealer and user high from every transaction.
My hush is lush. It’s drunk on its own greenness, just as I’m drunk on my blue silence. What would you say if I asked you to turquoise?
For the celebration I got champagne flutes, even though I’m not musical. That night I felt like Mozart. He was a drunk, right?
She works in the corporate business center, and I work in a satellite location. She calls it the “moon,” while I call it the “office.” I like to think of my office as God’s cue ball. I’m calling in now, The Big Three’s hitting the two b...
One of my hobbies is reading finance and economic books—at the strip club, where I “invest” my money.
The patrons aren’t patronizing the store, and it’s not just the economy that’s keeping them out—it’s that nobody here likes to be patronized.
I’ve found newspapers only useful as kindling material for campfires. It’s been said that newspaper articles are written at a fifth grade reading level. If so, I can’t figure out why journalists would write something that the average high schoo...
No matter how great you are, you could always be greater. Let this be a lesson in the need to lessen the size of your ego.
Who I am is unimportant. But who I am is very important. I’ll suppress my ego now, every occurring now, so I can achieve my maximum later.
He said he didn’t think he is good, but you can tell that secretly he thinks he’s good. And he’s right—he’s not good.
