Brooks: God, I’m done asking you for things.
God: Okay.
Brooks: It makes me feel like I’m constantly begging.
God: No problem.
Brooks: Plus, most of the time I ask, you don’t deliver.
God: Fine.
Brooks: Good…What do we do now?
God: I thought you said were done what that?
Brooks: Shit.
This is a photo from 1909, of my Great-Grandfather Jorgen (on the right), using his personal computer to send an email to his friend Dennings (left). Dennings is saying, “But I’m right here.”
Young Brooks: Hi, water.
Water: Hello, young Brooks.
Young Brooks: I’m sorry that the fish crap in you.
Water: That’s okay. It doesn’t trouble me that much.
Young Brooks: Does it bother you that the sky reflects on you and steals your identity?
Water: No, I still remember who I am.
Young Brooks: How did that Jesus guy walk on you?
Water: Everyone is special in their own way.
Young Brooks: How am I special?
Water: You don’t get sick when you eat Play-doh.
My book has only been out a week and it’s already working on the sequel. https://tinyurl.com/yc8ytclc
I’m lying on my back looking up at the ceiling of my igloo. I’m worried about it caving in on me. If I were to think positively, it hasn’t yet.
I saw you from the airplane window. You were out for a walk. I waved but you didn’t wave back. Are you upset at me?
