Wear something you’ve never worn. Eat something you’ve never eaten. See things you’ve never seen. Live. Grab life by the testicles and throttle mercilessly until your hands are gloriously sticky with matted, bloody pubic hair.
Pet a strange dog. Strangely. Call your mother. When she answers, say “I dialed a bad number,” and hang up. Water your plants with Kool-Aid. Explain the Federal Reserve Bank to a seven year-old. Perform an ancient pagan ritual using only vegetables.
Live. Write an open letter to every person you’ve ever slept with, thanking them for their time. Make three copies of this letter. Burn the original in coffee can. Send one copy to the Governor of Colorado. Staple another copy to the bulletin board at your local laundromat. Eat the third copy.
Arrange every pair of shoes you’ve ever owned in your mind by size and color. Kill a spider walking under a ladder by smashing a mirror on it. Start your own cult that revolves around the photogenic properties of Velveeta cheese. Help a handicapped person across the street against their will. Cuff your pants so that the cuff is on the inside of the pant leg, as if you were going to hem them. But for the love of Mike, don’t you dare hem them.
Lie to your lover about what was your favorite breakfast cereal when you were young. Catch a fish, throw it back, and then spend the rest of your life trying to catch the exact same fish again. Demand that a store clerk do fifty push ups for an unnamed transgression. If they balk, buy the most expensive item in the store and destroy it before their eyes. If they do the push ups, then shake their hand firmly and yodel. Softly at first, then louder and louder until the people nearest you are crying.
But above all, I entice you to live, to drink deep from the bathtub of life and stop worrying about picking the scabs from in between your teeth. You only get one go-round on this Merry Go Round, so go ’round! Live, laugh, and most importantly, languish.