Stop searching. Only pre-existing itches should be scratched.
Pull the petals from a daisy, then use tweezers to remove the yellow florets in its eye.
This is the way to perfect your own seeing.
Court sleep as if it were a lover.
When you dream of being chased, stop fleeing—let yourself be caught, killed and dismembered.
Your dreams will be so much better with a new protagonist!
Call your own phone number and say, Who’s this?
Have a notary’s signature tattooed above your genitals.
If you’re claustrophobic, team up with an agorophobic and make love from a safe distance.
(Love-making is dangerous: you can discover too many things at once.)
However quickly you’re going, go faster still.
Give each of your possessions a pet name and a safe word.
Work. Do somebody else’s bidding for 50 years.
Vacate. Watch a log burning in a fireplace on cable TV.
If you want to find God, sin flagrantly to invite divine retribution.
If you want to follow your gut, you must first acquire a gut.
Close your mind and open your mouth to every sweetness.
You are a child of the universe. Stuff yourself until you resemble a minor asteriod.
Each borborygmus is a message from the other world.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- How to wake up
- How to eat
- How to walk
- How to listen
- How to wait
- How to breathe
- How to find things
- Manual: How to make videopoems, courtesy of Swoon
- How to lose
- How to dance
- How to procreate
- How to play
- How to listen: the movie
- How to mourn
- How to calculate
- How to grow up
- How to spit
- How to burn
- How to mourn, Belgian-style
- How to make a fist
- How to make a face
- How to sacrifice
- How to take notes
- How to talk
- How to dig
- How to sleep
- How to cast a shadow
- How to teem
- How to fit in
- How to sit
- How to panic
- How to exist
- How to drive
- How to question authority
- How to cook
- How to find things (videopoem)
- How to distress furniture
- How to meditate
- How to be a poet