Please take the time to answer the questions in this survey carefully. Providing accurate answers to these questions will make you a better person. Answer any or all questions in the Comments section, or
for a personalized, in-depth analysis, send your completed survey to email@example.com. Thanks you and have the blessed day.
1. Have you ever stolen a book? If you’ve never stolen a book, go ahead and skip down to question 3.
2. What books have you stolen, and under what circumstances did you take the book? (e.g. did you outright steal the book from a place of commerce, did you pilfer it discreetly from a relative, did you borrow it from a dear friend and never return it, etc.)
3. Do you intend to lie or misrepresent yourself on this survey?
4. Did you find question 3 to be a little belligerent in its tone?
4a. Do we have your permission to publish your survey results?
5. If someone attractive, at a party or social event, let’s say, was to ask you who your favorite author is, what would you say?
6. Who is your favorite author?
7. What is your favorite book?
8. Please list any books you’ve bought because they might look impressive on your coffee table or bookshelf.
9. Do the remnants of your shambolic youth taste like batteries in your mouth?
10. Are you neurotypical or do you somewhat suffer?
11. In a fit of rage or despair, have you shattered a mirror or mirrors with your hands, cutting up your hands badly, getting blood on a favorite t-shirt (possibly ruining said shirt)? And if so, how far along are you into your seven year cycle of bad luck, and how has the bad luck manifested in your life?
12. What is your wpm when drunk on whiskey drinks?
E. Do you believe in a life after love?
14. Can you recall when, as a young child, your now-deceased dear departed grandpa would cradle you gently and firmly in his arthritic clutch, his gnarled fingers inexplicably pink and yellow and purple and green and throbbing, his tired blood pulsing in tight, dry notches through those crumpled crooks; how he would gently sway you and hum and hum nonsense, soft murmurs distracting you from the fact that mother is still not home, can you please, now, recall?
17. Isn’t this a lucky number?
15. Is it ever okay to eat large amounts of cold sour cream directly from the plastic container, perhaps with a large metal spoon, and if it is ever okay to do such a thing, when is that time?
16. When watching a movie intended to horrify hormonal teenagers, you identify most with:
b) the track coach who is a bully in an early scene but just fucking wait, he’ll get his
c) the monster’s mother
d) the bitch who sold you the popcorn
Ĵ. Do you believe in a love at first sight?
18. Would you rather admit that you were wrong to your gloating parent figure or would you rather me come to your house, steal some of your socks, molest your buttons, hold you down and brush your teeth, horseplay with your pets in a fashion too rough for their delicate bodies, &c?
19! Where is the keen sense of adventure that once percolated in your heart, fomenting in your innards, rushing in torrents of passion from your eyes, ears, nose, throat, anus, &c.?
20. How many books do you claim to have read?
21. Does it worry your brow and brain that each day, even today, every moment, this passing moment in fact, even as you waste time reading this, all these times, yes!–even now, here, you are closer now than before to approaching death?
13. When you were a child were you plagued by recurring nightmares that miniature werewolves in torn blue jeans were slowly nibbling all the flesh from your toes as if they were Maine lobsters (your toes, here likened to said lobsters, not the werewolves), nightmares that were attended by actual somatic tingling of the extremities, and possible bedwetting?
22. How often do machines disappoint you?
22a. I remember I had an interesting experience a few years back, which I will now try to relate to you. I was working for a horrible corporation that hired young English speakers to “teach” conversational English to native Japanese speakers. I was living in
Tokyo, Japan at the time. It’s important to better understand this story for you to know that at the time my brown pair of shoes was a pair of Clark’s Wallabees, dark brown leather, a replacement pair really for a lighter, beigeish (sp?) suede pair that I had loved and worn the fuck out of, so to speak, in my college days. There is a certain way to lace these shoes that makes them so fucking comfortable (it’s unbelievable!), but unfortunately, at the time I was living in Tokyo I had the new brown pair and had somehow (and I can’t remember how) undone the good, comfortable lacing set-up and the new set-up was painful—and I mean it fucking hurt to walk in those things. It was unpleasant. So and so you should also know that this guy, J_____, who I knew, had actually fixed my previous, beig(e?)ish Wallabees a few years prior to this, when for some reason, drunk on a cruise ship I had taken the laces out, and this guy J_____ showed me how to lace them properly (taught a man to fish, so to speak). But, frustrated and perhaps overworked and mayhap a little frazzled I couldn’t remember how to re-lace these newer brown leather Wallabees, and my feet were fucking killing me! But so here’s what happened: See: there was this kid of about twelve years who came to the English school that I worked at, who happened to have the Down’s. And because he was Downsy, some of my colleagues were uncomfortable with teaching him the conversational English. But so see that didn’t really bother me at all, in fact he was a nice kid, and though I don’t recall his name, he was nice and it was never a bad time to be in there with him, and to speak to him in English, and sometimes he might even speak a few words of English too, mostly animals and colors, because my major technique with him, my strategy so to speak, was to bring crayons and paper and pictures of animals and basic things, objects, and to like, draw the objects and have him draw the objects and say the names of the animals and objects and things and also the names of the colors of all the animals and objects and things, and most of the time this technique or strategy seemed to work out okay and besides his parents mostly seemed to want for him to do things, you know, he didn’t really need to learn conversational English (which I’m not really sure you can really learn anyway), it was more like horseback riding lessons or guitar lessons or ikebana or something for him, and for the most part I think everyone, his parents and my colleagues and the Japanese staff, and the pair of us, everyone that is, was okay with us just coloring and saying “red” and “egg” and so forth. But so and then anyway this one day one of my colleagues who didn’t particularly care to spend time, paid or otherwise, with this Down’s kid, this colleague asked if I would, you know, swap with her and could I go please give the kid his lesson? So I went into the Spartan little cubicle to chat with old Downsykins. Anyway so well, we usually got along, as I aforementioned, but today we weren’t vibing. I don’t know how else to put it, except and please accept that this kid put out a real intense vibe – it was palpable, tangible, thick like sweat and smelly. It permeated. And so he would have none of my strategy today, he wouldn’t look at the pictures I’d brought, he wouldn’t draw the object or the animal, he wouldn’t engage, he would just scribble in a minor fury. So and there was frustration between us, it seemed, and we couldn’t gel or vibe or get in sync, and at that point my feet were just killing me, just fucking so painful, so that I just had to get down there and untie the Wallabees , and then take them off and then even start massaging the instep, and relieve my poor dogs. And as I massaged the brutal crinks out of my pathetic feet maybe it was that my attitude and posture and vibe changed. Maybe I started feeling better. And well so I guess because of this Mr. Downs and I started to sync up more, and at this particular point in my memory he kind of put his head directly on his desk, right in the middle of his scribbled mess of colors, his full fathom five for frustration, and I could feel this weird vibe from out of his eyes and ears &c. And I massaged my awful clump of a foot and just tuned into his head-on-the-desk vibe. It was harmonic. And then well I could clearly recall, like an eidetic Guinness Book freak the whole scene years earlier on that booze cruise ship—there, in Tokyo, I was there, in the Gulf of fucking Mexico, bending down to the sticky dance club floor, being shown how to do something, learning how to do something, with my laces, as it were. So and in the little corral the twain of us shared, I, like I was doing it in my sleep, I re-laced the new brown leather Wallabees making them somehow instantly comfortable and comforting, endearing them to my feet again, snug in the right places, all the pain and crimp gone.
So well at that point the kid took his head up and the whole trance was over between us it seemed, and but it was a warm and calm and generally gently chilled kind of come-down atmosphere between us and the little cubicle. And I admit that I was happy and my soles were healed and I might have learned something. But I can always unlearn it. Please relate a similar experience.
XXIII. You would best describe yourself as
a) a petulant phony
b) a monomaniacal fraud
c) the son of Zeus
d) a Narcissistic douche bag
YYIV. Do you suffer from black (sometimes known as brown) tongue?
XXV. Do you know all the words to all the old songs?
ZZVI. You are in a room. There is a large loom in the center of the room; an unfinished tapestry of a bear hangs on the loom. The bear is completely white. Where are you?
XXVII. All you need is love?
28. John Dewey or aggravated assault (c/o yrstruly)?
29. Two trains separated by 667 miles of densely populated urban sprawl travel toward each other along the same track, the first train at 9993 mph, the second at 2323.2323232 mph. Some people on the first train are hatless. At least one woman on the second train is wearing a hat. Some of the people on both of the trains are women and children. A Pegasus flutters back and forth between the two trains until they collide. If the Pegasus flutters sweetly at 776.667 mph, casting riddles, what should a hatless man on the second train answer to the following riddle, and at what speed will the man find the life-force crushed out his fragile body?—translated from the original Pegasese—
For her First Communion, I stole for my brother’s daughter a set of five Russian dolls, painted. I’m sure you know the kind. Upon initial inspection, the set appears in the unity of one doll, but bisect said doll at the waist and find within the riches of another painted doll, perhaps more exquisite than the first (but possibly not), and within that doll, once popped along the seam, yes, another doll, and within that, a solid central doll glowing like the embers of the twilit sun, yes yes! Each doll has been baptized and christened by Pan hisself; the solid central glowing &c. doll is named after my niece. Size you the dolls from that which taketh the largest portion of space to the teeniest; also give me their names (one is named Foxy, b/t/w); also, tell me the color of each doll’s dress, and my brothers daughter’s name. Can this you do?
a) Yoshiko, with the bone dress, isn’t the widest or the fiercest.
b) Pop open the doll with the cream dress, and Sanchez appears.
c) Barely fitting inside the doll with the ecru dress, Gabby is stifled.
d) Charmykins is somewhat smaller than the doll with the eggshell dress.
e) The third largest doll has either the cream or the bone dress.
f) The doll with who is my niece will ask of you this:
“What lives for ever and never dies,
Has knife for tongue and teeth for eyes,
Bricks for ears and pricks for spines,
Eats hearts for snacks and drinks blood for wine?”
xxx. What do you see when you turn out the light?
31. Have you ever endured a peek at a relative’s elective surgery, remarked on their scars, assured them that they were not now freakishly repulsive to you, an aberration that made it difficult to not throw up a little bit in your mouth, &c (note: not limited to boob jobs)?
32. When you finally fall asleep—funny how you think that you’re exhausted but it turns out that you were actually restless, perhaps bodily ambivalent about the day’s smaller and larger successes and failures, perhaps that fifth cup of coffee was a bad idea, or you find it difficult to crash into slumbers because you forgot to call your mother back, and things aren’t really going well with/for her as it is, and you should really do more for her, be a better adult child, or maybe you forgot to post the check to the electric company, or maybe your pet doesn’t really love you like you think that they do, or maybe you’re sick and you don’t know it because you haven’t seen a doctor in so long, and how would you even know, I mean, what if you had some disease that was eating you alive right now, only it had no real outwardly-manifesting symptoms, but meanwhile it’s inside you eating you up like millions and millions of minute (microscopic really) crabs—and when you finally fall asleep, do you fantasize about flying like a winged creature?, or perhaps you fantasize about flying without wings?, soaring through the azure sky on lightning-bolt legs, the pure joy of it, the literal exhilaration—or maybe you don’t even think about flying even though you used to, especially when you were a kid, when you used to think about it all the time, when you used to pray for some kind of special (possibly cybernetic?) flight-suit, but now you think about being a sniper, about shooting faceless people from a long distance, but not even shooting them, just kind of watching them and knowing that you could shoot them?, and isn’t that, in some inexplicable way, the opposite of flying?
32. What gets wetter and wetter the more it dries? Okay, okay, I admit—I didn’t originate that question! Haven’t you ever stolen or borrowed or pilfered, burgled, pinched, filched, embezzled, &c.? Isn’t it sometimes appropriate to appropriate? Isn’t this what this whole thing is about?
33. Still there?