Not to be a grandstanding, cock waving, son of a bitch, but I get what I want and I’ll tell you why. Because I ask for it. Sure there’s a lot of mumbo jumbo out there about asking the universe and it will provide. That’s hippy bullshit, even if I do to some degree subscribe to it. No try this good old fashioned technique. Tell people what it is you want. Fuck, is that so hard?
Trick of the matter is to ask for things you don’t even really expect. Just let your every passing whim and fancy become an announcement to the people around you. Don’t bother thinking that they don’t care, don’t even think, just blurt. Assume that you’re so important and wonderful that everyone’s function on the planet is to make your desires come true, then nevermind then 95% of them don’t. Be a realist.
Let me give you two quick recent examples. We’ll call it experimental data or anecdotal evidence.
EXHIBIT A: The Visor
For whatever reason I am infected with an outrageous desire to manifest the spirit of the good and gone Dr. Hunter S. Thompson. One piece of repertoire that I’ve been missing is his green poker visor. The one that makes you look like even more of a green monster under late night vegas lights than the neon does. I have looked but I have not found.
On Sunday I casually mentioned that I was looking for such a thing to my dear friend Amira. The next day just before leaving to jump on an airplane back home I ran into her and she handed me the very visor I’m wearing as I type this. She just happened to see one at the fabric store when she was there earlier in the day. She bought it for two bucks. Manifestation in less than twenty four hours. Boo-friggin-ya.
EXHIBIT B: Idle fantasy
Before leaving Toronto yesterday I hopped onto the computer and got to chit chatting briefly with my special lady friend and half jokingly suggested that she greet me at the airport in a sexy Catholic school girl outfit. That was a bit impractical since my car was parked at the airport, but I ended up giving her my apartment’s door code and the location of my spare key along with my aircraft’s ETA in Calgary.
Not sure what to expect I rushed home from the airport, banging my fist against my bargain bin mp3 player until it played something suitable for night driving until I reached my street. I climbed the stairs to my apartment and put the keys in my door, wondering whether or not I should knock or just go in. The first thing I noticed was that some of the lights were on. The next thing I noticed was my special lady friend standing in the hallway in a skirt, stockings and a firey red wig. Not a catholic school girl, but in the same spirit. An acceptable deviation of details methinks.
Perhaps this is a different, more overt version of the new age wish wash of The Secret that everyone’s on about. All I know is that if you ask for things, you’re just a bit more likely to get them.
Now the disclaimer. I guarantee nothing. Your mileage may vary. Don’t bitch and complain to me when you don’t get what you ask for. I’m not frikkin’ Santa Clause.
Alright. Ranting and blathering about my happy days in Toronto at the Worldwide Short Film Festival will come tomorrow. Or something…