The whole picture is worth four thousand guineas.
If you can describe a bruise you might get from running into a door or cabinet at night when you're mad with thirst for another French 75, you may well be the woman of my dreams.
I might also consider a girl who has just won the Lotto and wishes to Kickstart my dream job of being a layabout in Northern Spain, happy to see me smiling as I potter about etching copperplates with reverse drawings of listing ships full of sails and cherubs blowing the cardinal winds.
Making up for the karmic destruction I wrought in my last life by encouraging my son's and all of my friends' far-flung dreams.
Grafting tulips to cocoa trees, so to make lovely flowers that taste like chocolate.
Settling arguments between the lesser elemental spirits that sometimes hover in my home and consciousness.
Lots of other stuff too.
Describing velocipedes and 19th c. pottery in great detail.
Tampering cocktails with velvet falernum and bitters.
Carousel horse riding.
Waking up happy and going to bed happy.
Digging up Mercury dimes.
Captivating children with nonsensical stories.
Determining when and where everyone is supposed to show up.
Punishing my servants with public lashings when they've been caught conspiring with carnival troupes.
Catching crawdads and climbing china berry trees.
I try to accept and tolerate his existence in this life but I just can't.
My six jumpers of Shetland wool that keep me warm in the AC-chilled air of my dacha
The magic sixpence with King George VI on one side and his royal monogram on the other - a sixpence to last me all my life
Six flint glass tumblers from which a powerful elixir of bourbon is poured into the great gobs of my friends
010. 013. 017. 030. 042. 052
The six french fries from which I divine the extraordinary from the ordinary, using the principles of the I Ching. I am, of course, most beholden to the qian hexagram, especially when dipped into habanero ketchup
How silly the world really is below all the pretensions.
Pimped out time machines with curb feelers.
In which musical key the universe is humming.
My next meal.
Well.. infallibility vs inerrancy.
How great Curtis Mayfield's voice sounds when he starts singing the song So In Love, right after the long horn introduction.
Transcribing multi-colored post-it notes with random thoughts into something more cogent.
Cutting out pictures of French coiffure from an old encyclopaedia so to make collages that look rather like vintage cigarette adverts.
Listening to my ten year old's manic analysis of a Stanley Kubrick or Martin Scorsese movie.
You have a kind heart and you're interested in another person's inner life - not just your own.
You can recite any WB Yeats poem and/or you've made a sea-worthy vessel by hand.