Bo Burnham

Cup of JoeThere's nothing like a cup of joe,when the morning's grey and grim and slow,when the streets collide with the world outside,when litter lies where lilies grow.Just drink that smoking cup of blackand feel your feelings surging back.Plus, spill a drop and a coffee shopwill sprout up from a sidewalk crack!

9 likes Like Facebook_icon__ead this to yourself. Read it silently.Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound. Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything.What a wonderfully weird thing, huh? NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD! SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND! DROWN EVERYTHING OUT.Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper. Now, read this next line in your best crotchety- old man voice:"Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?"Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that? It sure wasn't yours! How do you do that?How?! It must've been magic.

Well, man, you know what they say."No, I don't. I don't know what they say. I don't even know who they are. Who is this they? They seem pretty smug. They seem to think they know shit. Fuck them.

MmmmmmI like that thing you do with your tongue. What do you call it? Speaking? Yeah, I dig it

There's a certain line between jokes and music and poetry that's a bit blurred in my mind.

At once I feel that comedy is this amazing sort of transcendent thing, and I'm also open to the fact that maybe it's just an evolutionary hiccup, something that upright apes do in their free time.

I think it would collapse my heart if I was super famous. I don't have the nerve for it, I'm too anxious. I don't know how you're not obsessed with how people perceive you, because they're real people, you know? You can convince yourself that they don't really know you, and that's true, but how can it not hurt your feelings?

I was definitely not the kid that just wanted to be famous for no reason whatsoever and then happened to find comedy. Fame and all that stuff have always been slightly terrifying to me, and it makes me very anxious.

The problem for us, as viewers, is that we want famous people who are passionate about the things they're famous for, because that makes them worthy of the attention. But I think many of those famous people just want to be famous.

I remember being superyoung, like nine or ten years old, and thinking, 'Man, I wonder what famous people eat for breakfast. They must have some special kind of cereal!' My mind was so warped by the idea of fame.

In high school, I worked eight hours a day just so I could get into the college of my dreams and say that I got in - and I never went.

Forever and an InstantForever and an instant met up one day,had a short but lovely talk,then each went on its way.

I put a chameleon on a red dildo... He blushed

Sully suffers from a stutter,simple syllables will clutter,stalling speeches up on beacheslike a sunken sailboat rudder.Sully strains to say his phrases,sickened by the sounds he raises,strings of thoughts come out in knots,he solves his sentences like mazes.At night, he writes his thoughts insteadand sighs as they steadily rush from his head.

Hanged"I hung myself today. Hanged? Whatever,the point is I hanged myself today and I__ stillhanging.I feel fine. Just bored. I keep hoping thatsomeone will come home and cut me downbut then I keep remembering that if I knewsomeone like that I wouldn__ be up here. Bitironic, right? Or is that not ironic? I readsomewhere that, like, anything funny is,in some way, ironic. But I don__ know if it'sfunny or not. I don__ think my brain owns__unny_, you know?I feel taller. I like that.I__e never been away from my shadow forthis long. It had always clung to my feet,parting momentarily for a quick dive intothe swimming pool. But never for fivehours. I like it. There__ three feet of spacebetween my two and the floor.I wanted something this morning. I may bestuck. But at least I__ three feet closer to it.

Read this to yourself. Read it silently.Don't move your lips. Don't make a sound. Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything.What a wonderfully weird thing, huh? NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD! SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND! DROWN EVERYTHING OUT.Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper. Now, read this next line in your best crotchety- old man voice:"Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?"Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that? It sure wasn't yours! How do you do that?How?! It must've been magic.

I love you just the way you arebut you don't see you like I do.You shouldn't try so hard to be perfect.Trust me, perfect should try to be you.