I wanted to live in the land of bad decisions, but I kept behaving like a tourist. To live in the land of bad decisions, you have to make some bad decisions. I kept hedging my bets and betting against my mother. I joined a subversive party, but I became an informer. I visited pornographic sites but only as research for a project. Even the decision to live in the land of bad decisions I began to question. I took sides. I drew up maps in case of any and all emergencies. I started double-checking my locks, the knobs on the gas stove, the light inside the refrigerator. I bought an electronic bug detector. I bought electronic bugs. I would have bugged my friends but I didn’t trust them. I bugged myself. I destroyed the records of my buggings, the tapes and the transcripts, the eyewitness accounts. I started over. I moved by night over the border. I registered myself with religious authorities. I asked them what they wanted me to do. I made sacrifices to the Gods of the land of good decisions. I invented old proverbs that satisfied my conditions: If you want happiness, prepare for incontinence. If you want peace, prepare re-zoning regulations. I read a story by someone I admired and told him it was good. I listened to my enemies and told them they were right. I was happy. I was alive. If you want to be alive, prepare to not die.