I need to get a rich Korean woman pregnant. Because I don’t want to work. She doesn’t have to be Korean. It’s not yellow fever. I just think my chromosomes would look pretty good when remixed in an Asian uterus. This one Korean girl texted me. She has better English than my sister’s friends. Who are American. They are 19 and call each other bae. They all have chlamydia. I hate them. They come over and insult my mother. I hope they all get impregnated by the inbred ogres in my hometown and their lives are ruined.
Friday afternoon. Right now the world looks like a flashback of the Good Old Days. When the protagonist was a young man chasing Sally through a field of daisies or some shit. It’s beautiful. I hate it. I changed schools when I was eleven and had no friends. Sunny days meant the other kids were at a pool party. I would just go to the library. If only I’d known I was living in a flashback. Now they all work at Hannaford or do landscaping. And I can write. Which doesn’t matter because we have smartphones. Motherfuck. I should have been writing code.
OK. I need to email my grandparents. Because they’re 80. I need to sell a billion ebooks so they are proud of me. First I need to teach them what an ebook is. Then I need to stop dicking around and get back to the book. But I’m distracted. I just found this guy’s blog and he’s amazing. So I read one post and stopped. Because fuck him for being good. I don’t want him to get any more clicks. I hope he quits.
I’m living in a flashforward for me at age 11. If only he could see this bright, bright future. See me with coffee in an office. Just a competent guy doing a competent job. Just a guy with too many friends. My biggest problem of the day being the social events lined up for the next 36 hours that I’m trying to get out of. And that the Korean girl texting me isn’t rich enough.