2005-01-21 - 4:21 p.m.

>Wishful Thinking

Well, my evil plan to ensure that no one ever reads my blog again is coming along nicely. There are two phases: the first is to be extremely sporadic in writing and the second is to write really boring things when I do write. Oh, I am a nefarious fellow.

Note world map: a clear sign of plans for world domination.

I always wished that I could have a chance to walk on another planet. There doesn't have to be aliens or even a breathable atmosphere. Or three suns, or a purple sky. Just the utter visceral knowledge, the knowing in my bones that there is more in the universe than what we have here. I mean, I know there is a wide universe out there, but my bones haven't felt it.
Obviously, I won't get to accomplish my interplanetary jaunt, unless someone comes up with a way of extending youth for a thousand years (and also a way to keep us from completely killing ourselves off).

I aways wished that I could fly. Who doesn't? Honestly, though, I sometimes feel like there are muscles in my back that ache to anchor a pair of unfurling wings. Sometimes I stand on my toes and waggle my shoulder blades and I.. well I almost feel like I could just launch into the breeze. I really savour the memories of flying dreams.

I always wished that I would never hurt anyone. Not realistic, no.

I always wished that I could be a really fantastically great artist, just phenomenal. I wished that my singing voice would bring tears to eyes. Ha! Okay, maybe it does do that, but, you know, I'd prefer the good kind of tears.

I always wished that I could stop time. Some moments just pass too quickly. And I would never have to rush anywhere again. And I could play some amazing practical jokes. I promise I would use my power for good! No go?

I always wished that I could dream lucidly (you know, be aware that I am dreaming and direct the dream in whatever way I wished) on command. What a playground the unfettered mind could be! Then again, maybe I am just a butterfly dreaming I am a man (ha ha).

I always wished that people didn't have such crapass childhoods.

(You know I mean business when I use the term "crapass." Actually I use that term more than I would like to admit. It's level of derogation is only exceeded by the terminology spewed by the Bee in response to a suggestion I made regarding home-made presents for her family. It was something like this:

Me: Well why don't you cut out some shapes and just paste them to one of those plexiglas picture frames?
Bee: (sputtering) Because... That would just be... Fart-Ass-Crap!

I am laughing even now remembering it. It's not as funny on paper, it was just the total seriousness with which she said it, like she was shocked that I would suggest such an uncouth idea. Wow, did that ever make me laugh.)

Okay, that cheered me up. I don't even remember what was bugging me.