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My job

My job

I dug a grave for 2019 and waited. At midnight, 2019 fell into the grave. I put the dirt I’d dug out on top of 2019.

In the gap in-between I had a spaghetti dinner.

Then I midwifed the birth of 2020. I said the usual, “Best of luck this year.” 2020 nodded and waddled on its way.

I went to bed. It was daylight. But I was tired and fell asleep quickly.

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In gratitude

In gratitude

I became a park bench overlooking the lake. I liked the feeling of people’s warm butts sitting on me. It brought me comfort during a difficult time.

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Gathering together

Gathering together

I went around the house gathering pieces of dust that used to be me. I took my time. Eventually I’d collected enough and went to my desk to work on the assembling. When I was done, there was a second me.

I put a shirt and a pair of pants on the duplicate. I stuck its pointer finger in the socket. The second me eye’s opened and blinked. It looked at me.

It nodded. I nodded.

I said, “What do you want to do?”

The second me said, “I’d like to get a pound of red Twizzlers and eat them while watching the Rolling Stones in concert on YouTube with you.”

I said, “Me too!”

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I’d prefer being a duck

I’d prefer being a duck

I wanna be a duck. I like how they can live on top of water and not get wet. The water falls right off them. I’m tired of having to dry myself off whenever I have any kind of contact with water.

I’m not sure how to become a duck. I might try thinking about it a lot and really hard. The mind is powerful. The thing is, if I instantly become a duck through mental means, and I’m in my home, how will I get to the lake? Ducks can’t open doors. I guess I might get lucky and suddenly become a duck while I’m driving. I always drive with the windows down. Once a duck, I can fly out the window and look for the nearest lake.

Another thing I would like about being a duck is they quack. That’s an extremely simple way of communicating. English has so many words, and since I’m not good at making decisions, it can take me an awfully long time to write or say something. It’s taken me over four hours just to get to this place in the story. As a duck, this blog post would be, “Quack, quack, quack.” Or ever better, I wouldn’t write anything because ducks are disinterested in electronics.

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There goes a star

There goes a star

I’ve screwed up a lot. I’ve also done some okay things. I tend to think I screw up more than I do okay things. My guess is that I do an equal amount of both.

Even still, I wish I only did okay things, and was honored for such. People would see me and say, “Wow, he’s okay.”

The thing is, it’s hard to be seen. Everyone sees themselves primarily. Everyone else is periphery. We’re backround actors to each other’s stardom.

Still, I hope to be seen. It’s similar in experience to when I was a kid and while sitting in a chair, tried to lift the chair off the ground. I hoped I could do it. If I only tried hard enough.

I think I’ll be content to being my own star. I’ll bask in my glory. I’ll think, “Wow, there he goes. I can’t believe I’m seeing him in person. Wait until I tell myself about it.”

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some dumb things I did in 2019

some dumb things I did in 2019

I continued doing these blog posts, hoping they would win either the MacArthur Fellowship, or the Pulitzer.

I bought a pet aardvark. I named it Boris. I took Boris with me wherever I went. He was always on a leash. Boris would find ants to eat on the sidewalk. I never had to buy Boris ants from the pet store. But then one day a lady was out for a walk with her pet ant. As they walked past Boris and I, Boris ate the ant. She lost it. I yelled at her for having a pet ant. I reacted that way because I’m uncomfortable when I cause anyone pain.

I was a democratic candidate for President. I was onstage for three of the debates. I was honest and said I had no solutions for the country’s ills. Instead I played harmonica and sang. I made up the songs. One was called, “I just like being on TV.” Another one was, “I’m an idiot, perhaps we have something in common.” And then there was, “I wish I were eating a sandwich.” The last song became a hit. People started sending me sandwiches in the mail. I ate some of them. But there were thousands and most were uneaten and went stale. When word got out about this, my ratings went into the toilet and I didn’t get invited back to the next debates. I’ll still be on the ballots. I’m hoping by the time people vote, they’ll forget how dumb I can be.