Ok, there may be those of you who find this post too hippy dippy.
Trust me, I am among you.
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I wish I was a millionaire, and could keep a flat in Prague, a flat in Paris, a flat in New York, a flat in San Francisco.
I wish I was numb, so that I wouldn't feel this pain I know is going to hit me.
I wish I was more cynical and callous than I am, so that I could stop kicking posters of George Bush.
I wish I was European, preferably French.
I wish I could think of a nation on earth that hadn't commited great sins against man.
I wish I could really fall in love.
I wish I was home.
I wish that I never had to go home.
I wish that I could help everyone who needs help; barring that, I wish I could help my friends. Barring that, I wish I could help my girlfriend. Barring that, I wish I could help myself.
I wish for three more wishes.
I wish for all my desires and hopes and prognostications to be swept away like sand in a beach house, leaving only my skate board, my sore throat, and my habits.
I wish for an end to this wishy-washy maudlin feeling that takes control of me after a few glasses of red wine.
I wish for all my desires to take control of me, and let me live like the animal being that I am.
I wish that i didn't have a crush on the waitress at the restaurant where I write this.
I wish for an end to paradoxes, pain, and my seeking of hopeless situations.
1 comment:
yeah ben...i remember that too..you say you wouldnt call not to worry me but you did, didnt you babe? and i was so worried so many miles away from Prague that i got really drunk that night...but next night i hold your hand and you were full of drugs and it was nice somehow...
love
Ven
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