I stare at the white walls and think about the film The Seventh Seal by Ingmar Bergman.

You can’t live without a paintbrush.

All I do is walk around, falling deeper into shaving cream.

The milkshakes have all melted into Apple Jacks.

Life seems so incomplete.

I want to blow the candles off a birthday cake for no reason.

A couple climbs into a black SUV, wearing face masks in ninety-degree weather on a Sunday morning. Nobody says anything.

A kid walks in with a black t-shirt on and earbuds in his ears, and walks back outside just for the hell of it.

There’s a canker sore on my lip that I keep biting. It won’t go away.

I once saw a lady with pink hair and the eyes of a fish.

There’s no one to disagree with.

I’m sick and tired of seeing people waddle like Charlie Chaplin to a Target.

A security guard steps in with a green shirt.

Is it too hard to beg for an ice cream cone?

I can’t lift a finger these days. What does lifting a finger even mean?

We live in a world where chocolate-covered raisins are more popular than chocolate-covered peanuts.

She held the phone to her ear as she opened the door.

“Hey, man. Can you tell me what the time is in Zimbabwe?”

I parked my car here and left the car in drive.

The jeep rolls along with a dog poking its head out the back window.

I wish I had wings on my arms.

The STOP sign says hello, and I don’t say hello back.

The gray clouds greet the mountains, and all I can think about is Pizza Hut.

I’m all alone in here except for the staff, and they ignore me completely.

Yesterday I never had a bowel movement.

Chinese food makes me itch.

If a cow jumps over the moon, why can’t I write something as ridiculous as that?

I see a man wearing fluorescent green gloves just in case he has to walk at night.

I see people waiting for their emptiness before they leave.

There’s nothing left to do in this small town.

Tomorrow I’ll try to piggyback someone, but I don’t hope for much.

My car is parked in the shade.

I once wrestled someone and grabbed a beer with him afterward.

I haven’t got much time left.

My arms are cold; my legs are restless.

I miss the day when I dissected frogs–much simpler times.

My ego is held by drawstrings.

Who the hell drinks ginger ale?

It’s been a long time since a salesman has knocked on my door.

My next birthday present will be a chainsaw.

I eagerly anticipate a clown to trip on the sidewalk.

It isn’t quite yet time to panic.

I once asked a man for fifteen cents. He looked at me with contempt in his eyes before he walked away. He was a shutterbug.

Hospitals need dance music.

I’m seeing the ugliest green BMW I’ve ever witnessed in my life.

There’s an exit sign on both doors.

A friend of mine once told me she ate steak by the pool.

A man climbs out of a vehicle with his glasses in his teeth.

They don’t like being called redheads. That’s how it is these days.

I like to wake up in the morning with a hunger for bagels and lox.

Blame it on sweaty handshakes.