Metacircus by Howard Yeh

Words Are But Shattered Mirror of Thoughts

How To Say “I Love You”

First, you must fast for twelve days and twelve nights. On the twelveth night, which coincides with the full moon, split open the throat of a fatten goat and offer its blood to the gods. Say your prayer, so you may become pious. But beware, say nothing of your love.

Then you must write a poem. It should be badly rhymed. It should contain two or three words you didn’t know before, and allusions to Greek Goddesses whose names you don’t know how to pronounce. The poem should talk about how beautiful flowers and birds are. But beware, say nothing of your love.

Then you must burn your poem, because it’s badly written.

Then you must perform five acts of profound kindness. One to your brother (if you don’t have a brother, a sister will have to do. But she must be at least two years older than you), one to a dog chasing after a cat, one to a crying child, one to the first hippie you met, and finally, one to yourself.

Then you must say “Mrs. misses mississippi eases and eats greased geese cheese freezes”, forward and backward, with a ping pong ball in your mouth, twelve times each in Japanese, Russian, and Dutch. This sharpens your rhetoric, so your tongue would not grow thick from nervousness.

Then you must meditate on the Universe.

When you have become pure light, when you are ready to say “I love you”, only the last step remains.

Find a girl you at least minimally like.

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