October Itch

October hits and you realize the year’s almost gone. You haven’t done anything real, just lived the default existence. Halloween comes around and people want to talk costumes, but what you’re feeling is that itch—the need to do something that doesn’t fit, that the normal version of you would never touch.

So I make a list of things to actually do.

Roll a fat joint and share it. Generosity disarms people faster than anything else, especially when it’s good weed. Dress up as Kanye West’s dick for Halloween because the absurdity is the point. Binge the original four seasons of Skins instead of wasting time on that gutted American version. Look through my phone and think about which friendships have the depth to become something else. Eat better. Seriously, do it, because my body’s been keeping score whether I’m paying attention or not.

Find out my girlfriend is actually Osama bin Laden and feel this weird misplaced pride about it. Sit outside an Apple Store with the saddest eyes, hold a Nokia 3210 in someone’s face, beg them to buy me an iPhone so I can finally fit in. Go to a protest against Nazis because honestly, nuclear power stations can survive without my afternoon. Spend real money on complete garbage—diamond-encrusted toilet seats, saffron-scented, whatever—just for the feeling. Find a pen pal somewhere in Cambodia and spend months discussing the mating habits of very overweight penguins.

Half of it’s serious and half is a joke that stops being funny somewhere in the middle. You won’t know which until you’re actually doing it.