By Ahmed Latif
I don’t know what to write.
I could talk about Tom, but I don’t like to talk about people behind their backs, especially when these people talk out of their @$%.
I guess I could tell you about the love interest in this story, although she doesn’t exist.
Do I ramble or is it just my cursive writing?
Oh am I too weird for you to continue reading?
Do me a favour and stop being so full of yourself, you are no tight-lip tommy you rambler!
I swear to God if you turn off the lights right now I will flip out.
You got to love how hype hipsters are about keeping good music secret.
My friend Milena is Moldovan, isn’t that weird?
Someone told me I ‘scoot like a rabbit’.
What does that mean?
Is that good?
When I feel down I usually listen to Thunder Song by JacKy.
It’s a terrible song by a terrible garage neo-soul-techno-fusion-jazz band.
It has a record of two purchases on iTunes.
I don’t like my subconscious; I like couscous instead.
Maybe I should write a dumbed-down mystery novel, they say it might sell.
Probably should stop starting my sentences with I; should also stop staring at the cleaning lady, she’s like 45!
I listen to too much music but not enough jazz.
I make a lot of wine jokes but I don’t drink; also I don’t see the irony in that, is that bad?
Sometimes I just feel like jotting down my thoughts, this isn’t one of those times.
Recently my thoughts have been more like:
Why would anyone do a jigsaw puzzle of the sky?
Why would anyone do a jigsaw puzzle in the first place?
Do mental exercises come with mental exercise clothes?
Are nerds considered mental athletes?
Why are all my thoughts questions?
Flower is a weird word, weirder than basket.
Think about it, basket.
And so on and etcetera and so forth.
Could it be that I am too blissful?
Maybe I should do some lamenting exercises. You know, like crying in an empty room that is full of jam-stuffed Valentine’s Day donuts.
Sometimes I wish I was meaner especially to those judgemental d-bags at Pizza Hut. ‘Thou shalt not judge if thou works in a Pizza Hut, lest thou be judged for working in a Pizza Hut’.
Most days my favourite song is New York New York by Frank Sinatra.
Then again most days my favourite historic reference is the reign of Napoleon II; he was the most entertaining non-Bonaparte Bonaparte.
Just call me the Chekhov reincarnate, or maybe Tolstoy.
Nope, no, I am sticking with Chekhov.