Colin Nissan

It’s no coincidence I’m a Gemini. The cosmic twins inside me, so restless and impish, craving such disparate adventures, never feel content making omelets at just one place. Living with this duality helps me to understand those struggling with split personalities, although I don’t have the luxury of taking medication like they do because either way I’ll still have jobs at two different omelet places.

FRESHEN UP YOUR WARDROBE

As you read this, chances are you’re wearing a sweat suit with spaghetti sauce on one, if not both, of the sleeves. It’s time to get out of your comfort zone and treat yourself to a new outfit or two. You may be surprised at how much confidence you’ll gain just by dressing better. And how much additional confidence you’ll gain by deciding to eat with utensils again.

Physiologically speaking, you’re neither asleep nor awake during a daydream but, rather, in a peculiar in-between state where your thoughts are lucid but you’re still at serious risk of drooling. Psychoanalysts often refer to this state as La-La Land when their vocabularies aren’t great. Freud, in fact, found daydreams to be fascinating glimpses into the brain’s ability to depart from the drudgery of writing an Oedipus essay for a quick little horseback ride with a braless Greta Garbo.

“It’s important not to let one little slip up send you into a tailspin. Too often, one donut leads to another donut and another, and the next thing you know you’re making your own donuts and opening a wildly successful international donut franchise. And guess who’s suddenly too overweight to be in their own TV commercials?”

“The more specific you are about your resolution, the better your chance of sticking with it. Don’t just say, “I want to lose weight.” Say, “When my arm jiggles, I want it to look less like a pelican’s throat-pouch choking down a bass.”

“On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me, two turtle doves. Wow, she’s really into the avian theme this year. Um, thank you? I guess I’ll just put them in the kitchen with the partridge and the pear tree, which suddenly seems a lot bigger than it did yesterday.”

“I was resting quite comfortably upon the divan inside the very chamber where I perished a century earlier, when a weary male traveler checked in, placed his valise down and took to ravenously pleasuring himself, two, perhaps two-and-a-half times, before polishing off a red tube of snack crisps and succumbing to immediate slumber. A ghoulish spectacle that inspired me to regurgitate a bit in my dead mouth.”
                                        — The ghost of Ezra Willis, Buxton Inn, Granville, OH

My first piece for the New Yorker is up today!

It’s Decorative Gourd Season, Motherfuckers.

Before you get started, make sure that you have a clean workspace and that there isn’t a single other fucking thing you’d rather do besides this nautical disaster of a hobby.