1. Fall in love. It should be noted that there are different versions of love, most of which include one person parasitically sucking off the other, stronger person, but this still can be used to the writer’s benefit. What you do is you label anything love that you can’t figure out, or when a person acts inconsistent—one day happy, one day angry (like father)—and you sleep with that person and you listen to their hopes and dreams and they never ask you about yours and you don’t care because deep inside you know this isn’t the real thing but the sex parts feel good and you really really really like their nose, but inside you know it won’t last.

Day 1: My Brother is Pelting Me with Hershey’s Kisses

Each festive chocolate pulled from the candy dish is swung over the living room planter en route for my head, trunk, or at least a limb. With the older sibling advantage, his aim is precise. For years he has practiced his technique, has mastered the maneuver of recon, sweeping up each fallen missile to prevent a return attack. One eye on the target, one eye scanning the carpet. His arms and legs, a unified machine with one purpose: to annoy.

On January 1 2003, I made my first and only New Year’s resolution. I resolved that this would be the year that I lost my virginity. It wasn’t an American Pie-esque pact with friends. I didn’t tell anyone or write it down. It was just a solemn vow I whispered to myself. I was seventeen years old and my interactions with girls had been pretty limited. This was largely due to the lifestyle my high school friends and I had fallen into, which was not entirely conducive to sexual conquests. It was more conducive to the life of a eunuch.

1. Begin

2. Process – Decide whether dog is hungry or not
If yes, go on
If not, do not feed dog.

I believe that sunshine is good in small doses, but that an afternoon spent lying in the sun in Cabo San Lucas will probably result in a nasty sunburn; I believe that dogs smell bad and that cats smell good, despite their refusal to obey my commands. I believe that hard work is overrated, that too much of anything probably is, and that even my four year-old could do that.

I believe that the criss-crossing telephone wires above my sidewalk might spell out enigmatic messages if I could just figure out the right angle to look at them.