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I’ve been trying to think of all the things that I want to write about, and it only seems to lead me to all the things I want to wish for, so I’m going write about my wishes. I’ll start with material wishes, just to get them out of the way, and hope that I get tired of writing before any really embarrassing emotional or spiritual type wishes fall out in the open. I wish I had a 1964 Lincoln Continental with suicide doors and a 460ci engine that will do 100 miles an hour without even feeling the motion—something that I could pile twelve families into and take off across the country, and never have a hint that I’m not totally alone. Ah. Next, I want a motorcycle. I’d kill my own brother for a motorcycle. An’ you c’n tell ‘im I’m lookin’ for ‘im! I want a Honda CB cycle, between a 1967 and 1986 model, with between a 350 and 900 cc engine. That ought to leave things loose enough for my genie to handle. I was trying to narrow down my wish, but I just like all of them within those ranges, and I would be exactly happy with any of them—so long as it runs well, and is reliable, and doesn’t look like trash. Well, that’s about all I want materially—maybe a few books I’ve been dying for, but I can’t think of them at the moment—so I’ll be moving on to intellectual wishes. I wish to have a supreme university education, through the doctorate level. This wish entails some assumptions: It will be trying; it will be an absolute kick in the head; there is an implied eternal outcome to education. I’ve come to an hypothesis concerning education, for myself particularly—that there is no roof on my potential. Even if there is some roof in the strata, I don’t believe that it rests any lower than any other human’s roof. Therefore, I should never be able to find the limit to my educational potential. Like I said, this is an hypothesis, not a conclusion. Perhaps I could call it a theory, actually—as I’ve been testing it since I was a young boy. I remember the parturient thought that I mulled when I was 12, concerned with passing on into the 7th grade. I was petrified with fear that it would be more difficult than I could bear, that demands would be placed upon my intellect that I would not be able to meet, that the education system was structured so that inexplicably a child would be weighed and measured according to a rule that he had not yet been shown. It was a terrifying idea, though to some degree I realized that I was escalating the difficulties, and I remember asking my older sister to tell me what 7th grade was going to be like, what they were going to demand of me. Anyway, I’ve had this notion every year since when faced with a new level, that some inexplicable law will come into existence and apply to this particular coming change, which will cause something more fiendish than an exponential incline in the required difficulties and taxation of my intellect. Thankfully, this notion is subsiding, to the point that I fully realize the natural and proper progression that accompanies a student through the educational system, and that it always provides the means to meet the demands, though at times they be somewhat obscure, and require vigorous attention to catch them. Taking this into consideration, I feel now that there is no point at which I will necessarily find it necessary to stop. Therefore, I have faith in this wish, and I am willing to exert my entire effort on the intention. Phew! That was embarrassing enough to put down; thankfully I’m tired of writing—what a show of feeling was up next!