If I’ve just met someone and think they might be cool, I like to hit em with a one-two punch. I smile kindly, look them square in the eye, and ask with complete sincerity: “When’s the last time you pooped your pants?”

Your life is a lucid dream that you are free to shape and explore in any way you like. And once you’ve lived one dream, the others don’t seem as far out of reach. 

In a society where structure gives us meaning, people who exist across boundaries — nomads, drifters, vagabonds — are uncivilized, and maybe not trustworthy.

Since there weren’t throngs of people lined up across America to cheer me on, I could make do with eminado.

… was what it said on the tag of my hippie tea. I liked it so much that I got a piece of packing tape and stuck it on Lucky’s frame, so every time I looked down, I’d see that message.

There’s a powerful letting go when you watch your hair fall away from your scalp and fall to the ground in big tufts.

In America, you’re urged to “chase your dreams” and “make your dreams come true.” If you’re doing well, you’re “living the dream.” But also, what did your parents tell you when you woke up from a nightmare? “It’s just a dream. Dreams aren’t real.” So… which is it?