On Wishes
I was thinking a lot about wishes recently, specifically in the middle of the night a few days ago, and caught a few little snippets of text that might have been like clumps of fur from wild stories running around the forests of my mind. Or something. Anyway, I wrote down a few of them and figured might as well post them here since otherwise they'd just be gathering dust in my documents folder for however long. Maybe someone will stumble across here and get some enjoyment out of them. I hope so, anyway.
Do you know what everything means? Listen, it's been said that no one knows everything, but that isn't so. There is a man who knows everything. He has to always be kept sedated, though, because otherwise he just screams. And screams. And screams. Because there's a lot of wonderful, amazing, beautiful things in the universe, but it's hard to appreciate them when your consciousness is plastered with the knowledge of how it feels, and has felt, and will feel for everyone who has ever lived when they die, when they're hurt, when they're ill. He probably should've chosen his phrasing more carefully.
I've read a thousand cautionary tales.
So when I found a strange old bottle, with a magical genie inside, I put the cap back on.
Sometimes, I wish I hadn't.
Oh, shit.
A woman came up to me and smiled. She held a bright metal box in her hands, and she told me in a soothing voice that she could give me my life back. I thought about this for a while, carefully. Then I said, "Got any other lives in there?"
Do you know what everything means? Listen, it's been said that no one knows everything, but that isn't so. There is a man who knows everything. He has to always be kept sedated, though, because otherwise he just screams. And screams. And screams. Because there's a lot of wonderful, amazing, beautiful things in the universe, but it's hard to appreciate them when your consciousness is plastered with the knowledge of how it feels, and has felt, and will feel for everyone who has ever lived when they die, when they're hurt, when they're ill. He probably should've chosen his phrasing more carefully.
I've read a thousand cautionary tales.
So when I found a strange old bottle, with a magical genie inside, I put the cap back on.
Sometimes, I wish I hadn't.
Oh, shit.
A woman came up to me and smiled. She held a bright metal box in her hands, and she told me in a soothing voice that she could give me my life back. I thought about this for a while, carefully. Then I said, "Got any other lives in there?"