If I could, I’d sell my sadness two cents a piece. I’d make a business of this, and I’ll be rich. After all I have an endless supply of sadness. And when I’m rich I’ll give everyone my two cents. I’ll say dumb shit like pursue your dreams or get a job so you can sustain your dreams. I think I got it. It’s all about perspective. I’ll flip like a coin. Heads for happiness. Tails for being two-faced. BLUB BLUB BLUB. Don’t listen to me. I’m full of shit.
Who turned the heavy back on? Seriously who is that guy? He keeps coming back here and fucking things up. We need to get rid him.
Yeah when we catch him we should tie him up and keep him in the basement.
Let’s talk about dreams because dreams are pretty. I dreamed of Cuba. I dreamed of walking down Malecon, the road by the sea. The city is colored in an orange haze and the cars that pass me are pastel. I’ll be the Chinese guy in Cuba, and I’ll speak to them in broken Spanish.
Discuple, estoy perdido. Me podria ayuda, por favor? Como llego a mi hotel something something.
They’ll answer faster than I can comprehend, and I’ll think I got it. But truthfully I’ll be in a haze. That’s how it was in Spanish class, where I lost my tongue. Profe Diego, lo siento. Trate de aprender, pero fui muy stupido. Some of that Spanish would be great right now. Gracias, I’ll say because I can feel their warmth and love. And usually they’ll point. Derecha. Derecha. Si, entiendo. Gracias. Sometimes I wish Chinese culture were warmer and more loving. But it’s all about appearances and saving face and stuff that make me feel poopy.
But it is what it is, and who really cares when you’re 24?
I dreamed I was a cook at a Chinese restaurant in Cuba because when you’re Chinese you stick to other Chinese people. But I don’t know how to cook any Chinese food and the other chefs, they’re mad at me for making hamburgesassssss!
Zhe bu shi zhong guo cai! Ni shi mei guo ren!
I really like this dream.