Tanabata

I don't know what I'd say about my life right now—everything is what I have wanted in the past, I can't wish for more.

The problem is that I want more. What are the things people want in their lives? Every boy would live simply but at the same time go for this sort of list.

Start writing these on the next Asian festival paper you get and hang it as a ticket on a bamboo shoot, men:

I want money.
I want an extremely great wife, if you know what I mean, Mr. Star.
I want a car.
I want a house with a dog which I could give a bath.
I want food.
I want a job.
I need drinking partners.
I want a derby house.

Hang those festival papers, men! We got money, extremely great wives, cars, houses with dogs you can bathe with, food, a job—we could share,
drinking partners, and a country with only derby houses in it.

In sixteen and twenty-three years time, when we're all old men.

Oh, and by the way, shoot this to Uranus:

I want fun.

Isn't it nice to dream? Peer into the telescope and see Mars doing the same.