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When Breath Become Erudite: Deep Thoughts From a Shallow Person Inspired By the Best Selling Memoir of a Similar Title Which is Not the Same as Plagiarism, More Like Sampling. I Hope.
Excerpts from back cover.
I knew that someday I would die, I just didn’t know when. I am only a part-time psychic. It just doesn’t pay the bills the way life coaching can.
When you are terminally ill, your values are constantly changing. According to Zillow, you’re down five percent.
You can’t ever reach perfection but on tippy toes with one of those long-arm-plastic-grabber-things you can sometimes find at the dollar store, you might snag a top shelf whiskey. You have to be very careful bringing it down, though.
Even if you were perfect, your mother’s friend’s son would be a little bit more perfect. And probably a doctor. Also, if your mother tells people you are an artist, it’s only because she doesn’t understand what a life coach does and knows that if she says artist her friends will view all your transgressions through an artsy lens. Not married yet? She’s an artist. This implies your lifestyle is too creative to be pinned down by patriarchal traditions, as opposed to wondering whatever happened to that nice boy you were dating.
