I Want

All the psychological experts tell me that I have to make lists of things that I want in order to get them.  So, here I go...

I want to be a writer, without having to beat my fucking head against the wall writing shitty novels.

I want to read books of my choice.  Outside.  On a piazza.  In the sun.

I want to see more live music. 

I want to be happy more often than I am indifferent or angry.

I want to have supportive friends.  (or just friends in general)

I want to get drunk with poets and actors and musicians and painters.

I want to have tumultuous love affairs with marginally off-balance, beautiful people.

I want to travel the world.

That last one is a lie; I want to travel to select, beautiful countries with cool beaches and architecture.

I want to play in tide pools on the weekends.

I want an apartment of my own.

(I'm trying to be realistic here, and not ask for the lottery or a time machine...)

I want have regular dinner dates with Tina Fey (or someone else who will inspire me to be better).

I want to have regular sex dates with a young, beautiful, French, black man who doesn't want anything.

I want to write on my PC while sitting on a balcony overlooking the ocean.

I want to jog on the beach every morning.

I want to learn how to properly surf.

I want to live and work on a vineyard for a summer.

I want to just be done.  A quick brain tumor and a traditional Hawaiian burial.  (Sooner rather than later.)