I have the incredible urge to go to the store, buy a stack of firelogs, start burning them in the fireplace, throw open the sliding door to the backyard just a few feet away from the fireplace, leave the door open, and sleep there, between the fire and the outdoors.
I won’t, but it’s what I feel like doing. But I won’t. And I’m actually a bit sad about that.
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© Aron Hsiao / 2004
What else do I feel like doing right now?
- I feel like taking out the biggest loan I can still get and buying a classic car.
- I feel like driving to downtown Provo and walking around pointlessly in the dark.
- I feel like throwing out every single item of clothing and every toy in the house.
- I feel like driving to a 24-hour store like Wal-Mart and buying a whole bunch of random things in the aisles that I never visit becuase I don’t need anything in them.
- I feel like tearing out this massive desktop computing installation I have here at my desk, clearing the desk entirely, and putting nothing but my laptop in the middle of it.
- I feel like putting on a leather jacket, driving to Salt Lake City, buying some Chinese take-out, and eating it sitting alone in Memory Grove.
- I feel like shaving my head and my eyebrows again.
- I feel like going out skating all night, nowhere in particular.
- I feel like buying a plane ticket to some small town where nobody goes, just to find the local diner, have a burger, and then come back.
- I feel a bit like I’m lost.