May 30, 2005

To Be Number One

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A blatant attempt by the author, John Coelho, of the site JohnCoelho.com to increase his ranking on the web in the search of fame, glory, and a comfortable pair of shoes. Read on to learn more about the dark and mysterious John Coelho: his ramblings, mutterings, loves and curses.

None of it is real. None of it matters. Pain, suffering, love and joy. What are these things that the television tells me about, and why do they cost so much to buy or avoid?

My budgie tells me that lettuce is good. It is a strange looking vegetable, and it took him some time to get comfortable with, but now that he knows it he likes it. I give him lettuce sometimes, and he eats it from my hand. Other times he just helps himself to the fridge. I think he might be stealing the neighbour’s paper. I’m not sure.

I had a friend once, but she didn’t like me very much. She told me to stop following her. She didn’t like it when I left little things in her mailbox. They were letters, but she didn’t like them. It didn’t matter if they were pink, blue, or orange. She didn’t like any of them. We don’t talk anymore. But sometimes I whistle.

I write “return to sender” on all my mail. I don’t know why.

I bought a nice pair of Italian leather shoes recently, but I think they are trying to kill me. They’re so slippery and they make me fall all the time.

You know how on Monopoly they have the Jail square and part of it is “Just Visiting”? Some times I wish I could “just visit” hell or heaven. See what it looks like, just as Dante did. Heaven sounds very nice, and hell sounds like an interesting place, in a nasty sort of way. You wouldn’t want to live there: all your meals are burnt.

Why are the naughty, fun things so expensive??!

It seems that it’s so hard in this world to find someone who will just listen to you. Really listen to you. Everyone is so damn busy with their own things. God should have given us neural sockets so we could plug into each other and really connect. We’re so isolated in our flesh as it is. Reach out people, reach out! There is always someone craving to be touched, who hasn’t been for so long.

Love yourself, love those around you, and love those you don’t understand and fear. At the end of the day we’re all a bit messed up, good childhood or bad, and we’re all on the same planet, and we all have germs.

And swear if you need to.

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