There are few things I want. Honest food. Reasonable wine and beer. Clever clothing. A roof over my head. A computer connected to the World Wide Web. As far as things go, this is about it. Well, almost. As of late, I would like to have a pistol, too. A good pistol that can withstand all sorts of abuse. I would also like to have plenty of ammunition. Loads and loads of it. And I would like to practice shooting near and far. Caboom, caboom. In addition, I would like to have my pistol with me all the time. Ever on the ready. Ever warm close to my body. All this said, I am not sure why I want this last thing. What would I do with it? Would I ever use it for real? Actually, would I enjoy using it in earnest every now and then? Or would it only give me a sense of security, no matter how dubious and even risky? Funny enough, I do not have meaningful answers to any of these questions, but I still want a pistol of my own. The very last thing among things.

Addendum (November 1, 2015)

Nearly three years later, I am surprised by this piece, which I came across in one of my random journeys through my magnum opus. To begin with, I would not like to have a pistol. In addition, I do not remember ever wishing to have it, either. Perhaps most important, I do not remember writing this piece at all. In fact, I can easily imagine myself arguing with quite some conviction that I have never written anything of this ilk. The only pleasure this piece gives me at present is that my writings are valuable even to myself, for I cannot possibly remember everything I have ever written. Too many years, not to mention the number of pieces, let alone words. My random searches thus offer many a surprise, some of which are not exactly amusing. Returning to this piece, I cannot presently think of a single thing I would like to have on top of those I already have. And I hope this addendum will not surprise me one more time in a few short years.