Ten Small Disasters, All Voluntary

There was a period where every Friday I’d post a list of small weekend assignments—half joke, half dare—and throw them at the internet. It seemed like a reasonable way to organize two days. Here’s one more round, in the spirit of giving yourself something ridiculous to do.

One: find a sake festival, pay the entry fee, drink your money’s worth, lose something you’ll miss. Two: marry the first person you meet whose name begins with M. Three: get yourself mentioned on the national evening news. Method is entirely your business. Four: begin every conversation of the day by performing the Pokémon theme in a thoughtful, contemplative tone. Mean it. Do not crack. Five: queue up outside Berghain and ask the door staff if this is a completely different club. Return to the back of the line and repeat two or three times. Record reactions.

Six: sleep with your old maths teacher. You both know you wanted to. Seven: switch to South Korean cigarettes exclusively. Eight: build a time machine, go back to the nineties, correct every avoidable mistake, and try not to end up in the exact same position anyway. Nine: bow deeply to anyone who buys you a drink. Do not let this result in a pregnancy.

That’s the list. Complete at least three. Come back with a story.