Steven Wright 01

You know how it is when you’re reading a book and falling asleep, you’re reading, reading . . . And all of a sudden you notice your eyes are closed?  I’m like that all the time. Last night, I walked up to this beautiful woman in a bar and asked her, “Do you live around here often?”  She said, “You’re wearing two different colored socks.”  I said, “Yes, but to me they’re the same because I go by thickness.” Then she asked, “How do you feel?”  and I said, “Well, you know when you’re sitting on a chair and you lean back so you’re just on two legs then you lean too far and you almost fall over but at the last second you catch yourself?  I feel like that all the time.” Right now I’m having amnesia and deja vu at the same time.  I think I’ve forgotten this before. Lots of comedians have people they try to mimic.  I mimic my shadow. I got a new shadow.  I had to get rid of the other one . . . It wasn’t doing what I was doing. I was once walking through the forest alone.  A tree fell right in front of me–and I didn’t hear it. I wrote a song, but I can’t read music so I don’t know what it is.  Every once in a while I’ll be listening to the radio and I say, “I think I might have written that.” He asked me if I knew what time it was.  I said, “Yes, but not right now.” I put tape on the mirrors in my house so I don’t accidentally walk through into another dimension.