3 poems by KIMMY WALTERS in HATERS RAG || MAY 2013

3 poems by THERON JACOBS will appear in HATERS RAG || MAY 2013

HATERS RAG \ MAY 2013

beethoventhemovie:

starting today, march 17, 2013 i will be liveblogging everything i do. right now in my life there is no one i talk to frequently enough that they would be upset by me not doing things i had told them i would do. the only person ‘keeping tabs’ on my life is me. as time has been passing i have been feeling an equally out-of-control sensation of my life not belonging to me or something, like it’s just this thing that’s happening, that i don’t seem to be participating in much, and so am sort of failing at it. i witness myself willfully allowing opportunities to fade away from me because i don’t follow through with the tasks necessary to make them happen, because for whatever reason, it is hard for me to make myself do things that i know will make me happy sometimes.

i have no control over getting older but have i some control about the the things i do as i get older. also i feel like my memory is deteriorating. i used to document my daily activities. i feel like that helped me remember things. i even liked doing that. lately i haven’t been feeling like the things i’m doing are worth remembering. but i feel like that could just be a mind trick and if i just start writing more again, i can convince myself those things are worth remembering and everything is basically the same as it was however many years ago it was when i felt more satisfied or hopeful or whatever it is i don’t feel now.

**THIS IS NOT GOING TO BE INTERESTING** **I AM NOT GOING TO TRY TO MAKE THIS SOUND INTERESTING OR TRY TO MAKE YOU LIKE ME OR THINK ABOUT YOU IF YOU ARE READING THIS OR ENJOYING READING THIS, IT’S JUST GOING TO BE WHAT IT IS, IT’S A FUNCTIONAL THING THAT WILL HOPEFULLY HELP ME FEEL MORE LIKE IMPROVING MYSELF**

i’m going to start it a little earlier, with what happened earlier tonight.

2AM: put an orange peel into the garbage disposal but didn’t turn it on. later heard my dad turn on the garbage disposal and say ‘oranges smell good’ as if it was the first time he had thought of or done these things.

2-2:30AM: went into mom’s room (dad is spending the night) and showed my parents ‘the meaning of life’ by don hertzfelt. during the opening credits my dad said ‘oh wow, the sundance film festival, oh wow’ and ‘a long trip down a birth canal’ and my mom said ‘oh no’ and acted like she wanted him to be quiet. started eating my orange. parents laughed when the cartoon people started talking. my mom laughed more than my dad but it felt like both of them felt pressured to laugh, maybe. when it showed the stars for the first time my dad said ‘oh well now that made me like it,’ like he thought before the star part don hertzfelt was making a ‘basic’ comment about humanity, which i don’t think he was. near the end i felt something in my stomach and heard my mom cry a little bit and i did too. a few moments later my dad started talking excitedly about how he didn’t really understand what the movie was trying to say but he really, really liked it, like ‘hoo boy did i ever like that.’ he seemed focused on wanting me to know he liked it. it wasn’t over yet and it was still at this sort of emotional part, where the little alien at the end is left alone and looks up at the stars. my mom said ‘it’s not over yet, mike,’ and my dad acted like he had been caught doing something ‘wrong’ (but resented that someone thought he had done something ‘wrong’) and said ‘oh! oh no, hush mike, let’s hush and see what else happens.’ i didn’t look at either of my parents and the screen showed pretty galaxy-like orbs. i said ‘yeah, so.’ my mom sounded kind of teary and i didn’t look at her but i thought she might be smiling. the galaxy-like orbs were still on screen. i said ‘yeah, the guy, he didn’t use computers to make it.’ my dad said ‘oh no computers? oh wow it was just great, wow, really great, is there some kind of website i can get to to get to this guy? i really didn’t quite get it but the flavor of it is just so, wow. it’s really something. what a great thing to see.’ i said ‘i don’t know his website’ and it felt hard to look at my dad. i said goodnight to them and my mom was smiling and my dad thanked me for showing him the movie. i felt ashamed of myself for some reason, like i had missed a crucial but very seemingly easy to make 3-pointer and the other team had taken possession of the ball.

~2:45-4AM: filled bathtub. dad walked into my room and asked what my symptoms were (have been vomiting and shitting a lot the past few days, i think because of doing a lot of drugs in new york this last time) and i told him but stressed for him not to worry about it. i said i was going to take a bath and he recommended me to take xanax to get my sleep schedule back to normal and i said that was a good idea. retrieved papaya from fridge. snorted medium-large line of heroin from ‘light blue 4-sectioned pill organizer’ thingy that was given to me by tao from his most recent visit to taiwan. tweeted a lot from my unedited account. tweeted with mira and felt good. sort of ignored gchat from ex-boyfriend, then responded but then he didn’t respond. got second papaya half from fridge while wearing a towel. felt my eyes not being able to focus on one point without crossing, like i had to cover up one eye just to read a word, which would also take a long time. washed and conditioned hair. lay with my nose and eyes out of the water, letting my hair float around me. felt ‘anemone-like.’ felt like a very low-functioning sea anemone. rubbed nails up and down legs and everywhere, like, exfoliating myself, dead skin seemed to be coming off. thought about things i told myself i would do by monday. sent two emails with difficulty, typing with one hand and covering my eye with the other, so my eyes wouldn’t cross. rinsed with fresh water and dried off and ate 1mg xanax, then realized this was maybe a bad idea, but also that i think i’ve mixed heroin and xanax before and it’s been okay.

4-4:10AM: stood in kitchen peeling an orange over garbage disposal listening to bath water drain. seemed difficult to focus my eyes, like my eyes were still crossing a lot. felt warm and nice and opiate/benzo things but also a little like ‘is this…too much…’ or something. imagined me being dead tomorrow and my dad using garbage disposal and smelling the orange and saying ‘oranges smell good’ the way he did last night, like he had just discovered that oranges smelled good, but i’d be dead in my bed.

4:10-4:30AM: researched things about mixing xanax and heroin. was pretty sure everything would be okay and i’d just sleep a lot, and thought i’d mixed those things both recently and sometime in the summer of 2011, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to make myself vomit. the vomit was orange from the papaya and the orange and contained a little fresh blood, like, on my thumb, from scraping something maybe. when i make myself vomit i ‘fuck’ my throat with my middle and ring fingers really hard. i used to just be able to make it happen by touching the back-sides of my tongue with one finger but now i need to use two or more fingers and ‘fuck’ my throat fast and hard and all the way down, so that my knuckles go a little past my teeth. i continued to do it until all the fruit was out of my stomach and i tasted a little chicken. not much was coming out. when it reached the ‘chicken point’ i’d feel a chunk and ‘fuck it’ until a smallish grouping of chunks came out. i drank water and jumped up and down and twisted my abdomen around to get all the stuff that might still be on the bottom of my stomach to surface near the top/’exit point.’ i did one final expelling of things. the vomit looked pretty and orange and legs felt weak. brushed teeth and washed and rubbed coconut oil on face. ate remaining orange and wrote this.

5:36AM wrote all of this. the things i did tonight are things i would not normally tell people i would do, i think. ate ‘go pecan pie’ raw thingy.

6:11AM: read this. my stomach is making whale noises kind of. there are cars outside. it’s always bad when you can start to hear cars outside i think. wish i wanted to masturbate. have a vague memory of masturbating sometime within the past 3 days, like maybe yesterday. i don’t think i like masturbating anymore the same way i don’t like a certain kind of joke where i can tell the punchline every time. same with sex maybe. sort of. i feel able to predict anything and unable to be surprised. i feel like, 5000 years old, like leto 2 in ‘god emperor of dune.’

6:35AM: still feeling ‘need to cover one eye to read’ thing but not to type. drinking glass of raw/unpasteurized organic milk my mom said ‘comes right from the cow’ and eating 4 ‘raspberry tartlett’ cookies. probably going to get seconds.

6:51AM: re-read all of this and had forgotten i had eaten raw ‘go pecan pie’ bar thingy, so i will not be getting seconds of cookies. thought ‘the helping is beginning already, excellent’ in monty burns’ voice.

6:56AM: looked at facebook and felt hopeless and confused and like ‘what did i do, i don’t get it’ about a person i like who i don’t think likes me and doesn’t seem to verbally communicate things to me other than ‘everything is fine,’ but their tones of voices, non-verbal communications, and things they’ve said to others who have told me all indicate ‘i feel negative things about megan.’ in the interest of this document being ‘documenting everything so i remember more and maybe change things’ i’m not excluding this event. i also doubt the person/people involved would read this or know it was about them. feel like me including this could be seen as passive-aggressive. i’m not including names for the privacy of other people, not for…i don’t know…i don’t want to think about this anymore. think i am good at accepting when people i like don’t like me anymore and keeping distance from them but ‘in my younger, wilder days’ i would involve myself more in convincing people to like me again. i accept not being liked. feel sort of sad/regretful but equally unable to know how to begin to try to change anything about this. want to eat two egg mcmuffins and hash browns and orange juice and have it be nighttime all tomorrow.

8:25AM: woke from same dream i had last night, involving me eating/stepping on glass, ‘the world ending because of evil cats’ and me trying very hard to transcribe something that would help ‘the human side.’ seemed to be the same exact dream, only i only dreamed the last half tonight. felt horrible when i woke yesterday and bad today. ate 1mg xanax and toasted two ‘bagel thin’ bagel thingies my mom has. one of them burned. spread philadelphia chive cream cheese on remaining non-burned half. responded to email. saw that muumuuhouse reblogged this and some more people liked it and felt good. want to go back to sleep. smells like burning. want orange juice badly.

8:45AM: unplugged toaster in case something was burning inside. was about to make another ‘bagel thin’ but found opened citrus kombucha in fridge. a thingy of unknown origin came into my mouth but it says ‘best by 4/3/13.’ it smells fine. troubled by ‘going to sleep at 6 or 7AM and waking once every 2-3 hours until 5PM’ routine, i don’t want to do that but i don’t want to be awake for the rest of the day now. going to look at internet and wait for xanax to kick in.

9:19AM: tried to use promo/sale code emailed to me by american apparel but received a message that every possible email i could’ve used to sign up for their email list was invalid, including the email address where i received the sale code.

11somethingAM: woke and heard my parents, especially ‘basso voice of dad’ who seemed to be agreeing with something a lot. shut door put head and computer under blanket and watched this video to help me sleep but seemed half-sleeping/half-waking for a long time.

3:15PM: woke from another apocalyptic-style dream involving me painting tents pink for some people’s freshman year of college, and knowing everything was going to be blown up soon or something. the pink tent people were ‘akin’ to feral cats in a way i can’t describe, and they wanted sex with me. told this to my mom. she said ‘are you sure you want to be moving to new york right now?’ and expressed other worries and i said ‘i don’t know what else to do, i need to do something, i feel like i’m dying.’ assembled smoothie ingredients: spinach, avocado, cucumber, coconut water, then saw there was only one banana left and no other ‘suitable fruit substitutes.’ listened to my mom talk to me about a murder mystery book she’s reading. poured second cup of coffee and brushed my hair with my fingers in the mirror and mom said ‘i’m so glad you don’t want to be an F.B.I. agent.’ i said something like, ‘yeah, i thought about being one, back when i watched ‘silence of the lambs.’ they don’t let you do drugs though.’ she said ‘what?’ i said ‘it seems too hard.’

3:53PM: wrote this. mom said ‘meggie do you want dad to bring home some bananas? he should be home soon.’ i said ‘no thank you, that’s okay, i’ll get them.’ she said ‘it really wouldn’t be a problem.’ i said ‘i know, i know, i just feel like i want to take a drive’ with weird syllables extended at the ends of some of the words, like in movies when they show people being effected by slow motion when they’re on drugs. ingested 10mg adderall. going to list things i ‘need’ to do today:

-write recommendation letter as if i am tao and he is my employer and send to tao

-ask keith (old manager at book store) if he will write letter or write one for him, meet him at bar tonight to get signature

-text…something…with real estate agent

-write vice article for this week

**ANYONE READING THIS: I FEEL ‘TERMINALLY’ OUT OF IDEAS FOR WRITING THINGS BESIDES THINGS LIKE THIS. LIKE IT FEELS VERY HARD FOR ME TO BE FUNNY OR CREATIVE. I FEEL LIKE IF I HAD A PROMPT OR SOMETHING IT MIGHT BE HELPFUL. DEPENDING ON HOW MUCH I KNOW AND LIKE YOU/YOUR IDEAS I WOULD BE WILLING TO PAY YOU AN AMOUNT TO THINK OF 10-20 THINGS YOU’D LIKE TO HEAR ME WRITE ABOUT. I AM 100% SERIOUS ABOUT THIS AND IF YOU REPLY I’D LIKE YOU TO BE 100% SERIOUS ALSO, THANK YOU, EMAIL ME IF INTERESTED, THEMEGANBOYLE@GMAIL.COM**

4:11PM: texted old manager requesting letter of recommendation. going to drive to whole foods and buy bananas. texted real estate agent saying i received lease. anticipate hearing a text back from real estate agent but not old manager.

4:17PM: responded to email really fast. watching mallory whitten’s video of sam pink, or like, listening to it in background of as i’m typing this, he has said ‘sour cream’ twice so far. just looked back at video. the lighting on his face looks like a candlelit dinner table between two hitmen who are meeting to discreetly slip brown envelopes to each other under a table. he looks very handsome, like ‘grecian god’ style handsome. feel like a dirty old uncle saying that for some reason. people laughed at something. can’t pay attention to this now. need to get my ass out there to buy bananas. he said ‘sour cream’ again.

4:26PM: skipped into kitchen making a noise with my lips and tongue like ‘blreelerleeloobleeloolooloo.’ mom was reading on the couch and laughed as i opened 4-pack of steaz energy drinks and took one as a ‘reward’ for being ‘so productive so far.’ skipped back to ‘computer station’ thinking ‘how will i type blreelerloorlooleeloo’ noise?’ no texts back from old manager or real estate person. going to read everything i’ve written as a reward. this is not a reward. shit. think i should just get moving instead. no, allow yourself small rewards, otherwise this won’t work. small rewards. shit.

4:32PM: old manager texted ‘Dang. Id love to madge, but I’m afraid I can’t.’

**IF ANYONE READING THIS WOULD LIKE TO WRITE ME A SHORT LETTER OF RECOMMENDATION, SERIOUS, LIKE YOU KNOW ME IN REAL LIFE, THE REAL ESTATE GUY TOLD ME IT WOULD BE GOOD TO INCLUDE THE WORD ‘INTEGRITY,’ PLEASE EMAIL ME, WOULD PAY YOU TO DO THIS, LIKE WE KNEW EACH OTHER FROM 2009-PRESENT AND WORKED TOGETHER AT THE BOOK STORE I WORKED AT OR SOMETHING**

**MY LIFE IS………………………………….JESUS………..FEEL…..JESUS…………….

5:06PM: have been unfocused-ly switching from texts, emails, i don’t know, screens, i look like this right now, imagine this thing greeting you at the gates of hell:

5:26PM: matthew donahoo has come to my rescue with lists of things for me to write about and a sweet letter of recommendation. matthew donahoo twitter. matthew donahoo unedited twitter. matthew donahoo tumblr. support your local matthew donahoo.

5:31PM: masha b, author of one of my favorite twitter accounts, is starting a similar liveblog. the liveblog shithead zeitgeist is growing. think my crotch smells like coconut oil. going to whole foods now.

6:02PM: in the interest of full disclosure/being honest, i want to say that i keep wanting to read this as a misguided productivity thing, like ‘hey look at all this you wrote, you shithead.’ i have done that maybe 1.5 times. my mom came into my room with a large beige blanket and said ‘do you want this for emergencies? for the trunk of your car? you can fold it.’ i said i did without looking at it and she went away. drank 3 eyedroppers of ‘zeolite’ and took one of my last 4 hard-to-swallow B vitamins. responded to two emails and paid matthew. have been feeling like, waiting for something, and ready, like in ‘a farewell to arms’ when they’re in the trench and they haven’t gotten to eat yet and ernest hemingway brings them the moldy cheese and pasta thing and then they get bombed. i walked past my mom’s room and she covered the talking part of her phone and said, ‘meggie? oh nevermind, i was going to ask dad to bring bananas but you want fresh air.’ i walked back to my bedroom saying ‘yeah, yeah, i want that, fresh air,’ accidentally like how terry gross says it on NPR, like, ‘FRRRRRResh air.’

6:39PM: Driving to Wegman’s instead of whole foods because my mom wants this special kind of eggplant dip. Smoking second American spirit menthol cigarette. Writing this is iPhone. Listening to iPod on shuffle. Feel like I’m ‘launching’ or something. Feel like writing all this is helping me in some way, there are consequences if I fail at doing things today. Elizabeth Ellen ‘liked’ this tumblr post and felt good. Swerved into other lane. Feeling capable and good but also that anyone reading this will have zero romantic interest in me, like lame and fragile parts of me are being exposed, but also strangely positive about that. ‘Rubber traits’ by Why? is playing. About to turn left into grocery store parking lot. Sky is very grey and reminds me of a day in July 2008 shortly after breaking up with second ex-boyfriend right before going on a cruise to Alaska with my parents, when I went to another grocery store and didn’t buy anything and cried in the car on my way home. Just parked. Writing all of this down is creating a strange effect of me being equally more aware of things I’m thinking/doing and removed from them, like narrating my life from a distance or something, it feels good.

6:52PM: there were zero non-green bananas in Wegman’s. Recognized ‘All the way to Reno’ by R.E.M. playing on loudspeaker after some amount of time wandering vegetable area. Bought one pound of eggplant dip thingy for my mom and some kind of raw green probiotic drink for me. Going to whole foods to get bananas and kale and some kind of kombucha for ‘flushing green stuff through me’ kale smoothie drink for later. Forget what I’m doing this for.

Other thing I ‘need’ to do today: write cover letter to apartment people telling them why I want to live there. Would not be doing any of this of apartment was not a sweet ass studio on the beach that’s $750/month. Feeling nonspecifically discouraged right now, think adderall is wearing off.

7:03PM: chugged green drink. Car is idling in parking spot. Started to read masha’s liveblog but going to do it when I get home instead as a reward.

7:07PM: ‘earth intruders’ by bjork came on shuffle thing. Feel like I ‘hate’ bjork but like unusual percussion in this song. Forgot about this song. Imagined being emperor of the universe and banishing Brandon Scott Gorrell to a small white room where he has to do…something…for eternity while this song plays and chuckled (I feel positive things about bsg and would not do that if I was emperor of universe, just seems funny to imagine him confusedly trying to do something while this song plays on repeat, like making this face and being like ‘what…am I supposed to do…fuck…’). Considering taking one Molly pill but feel like that’d maybe…something, I don’t know.

7:15PM: suddenly struck with sensation that time is running out. Might email real estate person that I’m coming to NYC Tuesday instead of tomorrow. Feel better thinking of doing that.

Immediate plans: buy things from whole foods, make smoothie and eat 20mg adderall, go to library, edit donahoo recommendation and email old manager, write letter as Tao & send, email real estate agent, write ‘cover letter’ thingy, go home & write vice thingy via a Sam Cooke suggestion about making myself cry or maybe a Donahoo suggestion, stay up all night probably

7:28PM: about to enter whole foods parking lot. Texted addy dealer but somehow do not expect response.

7:33PM: jogged into whole foods, selected kale bunch, bananas, citrus kombucha. Waiting in line now, feel intense neurotic ‘time is running out’ thing, jealous of all the people around me who don’t have my life, want to be cradled by something. Thought I saw a ‘new message’ thing flash on kombucha bottle ingredients area and panicked. Impulsively selected organic energy shot thing from cardboard box that says ‘try me.’

7:40PM: seems scary/alienating.

7:43PM: received supportive/nice email from Andrea Coates and felt warm. Received more article ideas from Sam Cooke. Received email from Masha. Responded to emails. Feel something in my stomach change after checking email. Drinking energy shot and going home to proceed w/plan for tonight.

8:41PM: unlocked door to mom’s condo and heard security alarm beep once. condo smelled like bacon. dad was laying on bed wearing hospital scrubs and reading something and smiled really big when i said hi to him. mom said ‘i’m making chicken BLT’s, i can make you one’ and i said ‘no thanks mom, i’m on a roll.’ saw little squares of yellow cheese and pickles on two plates containing loosely put-together sandwiches. stared at a sandwich complexly, like i was downloading a message from it or something. blended smoothie. ingested 20mg XR adderall. emailed/texted real estate agent saying his email didn’t contain lease attachment and i’d be coming tuesday instead. wrote recommendation for him on trulia.com. sitting at desk in my room. feel robotic and panicky. stomach is doing acid reflux things. 

8:52PM: spelled ‘mexican’ as ‘mescxican’ or something in tweet about my book now being available as an ebook. have re-read current tweet 4 times expecting some other egregious typo. 

9:09PM: sent email recommendation to old manager and texted. worried apartment people will google me and see this, might make this private or something within the next few days. texted real estate agent to re-send lease. manager just texted ‘Replied!’ emailed manager and texted ‘SWEET!! Replied replied’ back to him. changed small details. manager recommendation seems good. printing it out now. 2/3 recommendations completed. emailed matthew donahoo in an attempt to outsource writing tao recommendation to matthew. should’ve considered how it feels impossible to recommend myself for anything before offering to write recommendation letters. i am learning from this. keep thinking ‘i am learning.’ think my breath smells very bad, like how on others i’ve smelled and avoided saying ‘your breath smells,’ it’s like musty/basement-y. disgusted with my breath. going to brush teeth and walk around block, thinking about. something. thinking ‘keep moving, think about what’s good about yourself.’ 

9:48PM: flossed teeth. used 2 floss things and spit maybe one tablespoon of blood. aware that this looks horrific. while flossing i felt ‘vengeful’ against all people who don’t floss regularly, including myself, and who have inflicted their bad breath on me, ‘forcing me’ into polite silence with their bad breath. while flossing back molars on top-teeth remembered politely asking first boyfriend how often he brushed his teeth and washed his hair and face and like, introducing him, carefully and mindfully of his feelings and limited hygiene experience, into concepts like ‘daily brushing’ and ‘using pressure with a toothbrush’ and ‘timing’ and ‘lathering,’ saying like, ‘maybe you should press a little harder,’ and he was like ‘it feels weird, i don’t think i need to’ and i silently resented and felt less affectionate towards him for the rest of the relationship. remembered concerns an ex-boyfriend had with my hygiene sometimes and thought ‘goddamnit megan you know how it feels, it’s not an emotional attack or criticism against you, it’s just a practical thing, you don’t want to smell bad.’ felt triumphant and like i was speaking out against some kind of adversity, performing the humanitarian task of flossing in front of a large audience as i flossed, remembering these things. felt like matthew broderick at the end of ‘glory’ when he leads denzel and the rest of his troop into the battle they know they’re going to lose, but have thought about avenging and fighting for…the entire movie…but my fight is with a nonspecific audience in my memory, or who is reading this now and doesn’t care. proudly displaying this horrific picture of my mouth ‘as an example to you all,’ like ‘this is what will happen to you sometimes if you care about the comfort of other people, don’t be selfish, sometimes your gums need to bleed so other people don’t have to think about how your mouth smells.’ i am being insane right now i am aware of being neurotic and insane. i feel adderall again going to focus on writing things. 

10:14PM: started re-reading this whole thing. mom came in and asked how i was doing and if she could help. told her matthew was helping me write fake keith letter and now i’m writing fake tao letter. she said ‘hold on let me pay attention more, i have to pee,’ and is peeing now. she sat and said ‘so what are you doing, what do you need help with?’ i said ‘could you maybe just jot some things down about me, like, as a writer.’ think i said ‘jot’ 3-4 times. i struggled to say things like ‘as someone who likes my writing and thinks i’m…i don’t know, responsible.’ i said other things about 2008, tao discovering my writing in 2008. my mom said ‘so i should say i started reading you in 2008?’ i said ‘no no no, no don’t worry about the scheduling or 2008.’ she said ‘what do you mean, the scheduling?’ i said ‘like the events. of like. don’t worry about the events in time. i’m just having a hard time thinking of nice things to say about myself, i think it is, that’s it. could you just write a thing as if you’re someone who thinks nice things about me and like, likes my writing? what a person like that would say?’ she nodded and sat up from the piano bench and said ‘oh honey of course.’ i touched part of her bathrobe in in a ‘fluttery’ way and nodded fast and blinked and said ‘thank you so much mom.’ then i wrote this. saw mom’s head poke ‘cheerfully’ into hallway entrance visible from my open door. she smiled and said ‘can i say i’ve liked your writing since you were a little girl?’ i made some kind of laugh sound through my nose and waved my hand dismissively but not unfriendly-ily and said ‘just say whatever you want, just, whatever is good.’ wrote this which took a few moments. heard mom’s voice say ‘is it alright to mention vice?’ and i said ‘yeah’ with the word extended. 

10:29PM: jogged into kitchen in ‘sprinkling’ manner and drank large swig of store-brand liquid antacid. said ‘you’re the best mom’ in a voice that sounded more childlike than it did in my head. picked up steaz energy drink. something about right now feels like christmas. my throat and stomach feel burning, have been feeling burning since throwing up last night. can hear papers rustling. mom entered room smiling with piece of paper and said ‘this is a draft, this is a draft, i wrote it as a letter, it’s not perfect’ and i said ‘this is perfect, thank you.’ the paper has writing on the front and back. said ‘thank you so much.’ mom said ‘i think i may have said two or three things two or three times’ and left room without looking back. stood and tripped over basket of pencils/things but continued jogging to hug mom in hallway before she was gone. she is wearing a green bathrobe. feel something indescribable about me ending up in mom, getting born by mom, knowing mom all of this time. 

10:27PM: read ‘megan has shown a touching, intelligent sense of the absurd and at the same time, the real—sometimes sad, sometimes funny, sometimes purely existential experience of being human.’ read ‘fearless.’ walked into mom’s room and saw dad with a towel on his head, leaning at a diagonal towards mom sitting up looking at her kindle. they were both under the covers and smiling. said goodnight to them and hugged them. said ‘it’s nice to know you guys are around’ standing but not facing them in doorway while walking into living room, knowing this was not the thing i wanted to say, not knowing what i wanted to say, just that i wanted to say something.

MARCH 18, 2013

12:58AM: just read ‘endorsement’ as ‘embarrassment’ on the back of a check. edited matthew donahoo’s letter, used only the word ‘approach,’ i think, from mom’s letter. emailed thought catalog with a question about a W9 form and apology for not writing more yet/saying i would contribute again soon. seems definitely passive…not aggressive…but passive [something] to include this information in liveblog. actually not, because i’m just including everything, including everything is what’s helping me feel motivated to do more. earlier my dad brushed his teeth in my doorway and seemed happy and told a story about a friend of a friend who had a house in rockaway park and it was the only one on the block that didn’t get destroyed by the hurricane. he said the friend practiced ‘the sedona method’ of ‘release technique therapy,’ where i think the main thing is you scream in a room. when he said ‘sedona method’ his hair was fluffy and coming out of all directions of his head and his toothbrush was in his mouth. he looked like he was displaying the non-judgmentally proud unseen face of a g.p.s. announcer voice. he asked if my apartment was by the bay or the ocean. i did something with my arms and said ‘there’s one on each side, like, it’s 5 blocks wide, about 5 blocks.’ dad seemed happy and ‘fuzzy’ or something. seems like the ideal candidate for an electric toothbrush, which he has and uses every night, i think.

1:15AM: small crisis looking for checks. i have 4 folders with copies of papers in them. said ‘sup ipad’ to long-un-responded-to gchat from ex-boyfriend. andrea coates emailed me a poem. feel ‘not allowed’ to read anything, like i need to keep moving, buy folders and a stapler. going to drive to somewhere. buy folders and a stapler. think about what i want to write article about for article. everyone i’ve interacted with today has been extremely nice and helpful and seemingly selfless, like every interaction with every person, feel like reaching out to…i don’t know. i don’t know what i mean. thought ‘if there was something i could do with my arms,’ not knowing what i meant. imagining people in their rooms like me in my room. felt anxious imagining ex-boyfriend reading this but then relieved that he would not want to read this much from me ever, i don’t think, and even if he did it wouldn’t matter. 

1:35AM: something that sounds like a piano playing notes 3-7 notes apart from each other at almost not-random, cinematic intervals is coming from either directly underneath me or in the apartment behind my closet. sometimes it stops completely. feeling. i don’t know. i have a relationship with this liveblog now. sitting on my knees 

1:57AM: allowing myself 30-minute break from doing anything i’m ‘supposed to’ be doing. did yoga-like stretching routine. these are the stretching poses i like to do after sitting in one place for a long time. i was sitting straight-up in ‘modified relaxing knee bend’ when i wrote ‘sitting on my knees’ in above update.

RELAXING KNEE BEND

i think this is technically called ‘fish pose.’ learned how to do this in hot/bikram yoga but since i was a kid i’ve liked sitting on my knees with the ‘palms’ of my feet facing opposite walls. this picture is shitty because i’m holding the computer. i’m not doing ‘relaxing knee bend’ fully. when i do it fully the back of my head is on the floor and my lower spine is slightly curved up and i’m holding opposite elbows behind my head. the ‘relaxing-est’ part is felt on the outsides of my hips, it’s like a huge hip release. just did it a little to describe what muscles feel the most relaxed and thought ‘oh daddy.’

RELAXING ASS

i do variations of this one after getting my hips ‘nice and open.’ if you know yoga this is sort of a combination of ‘child’s pose’ and ‘thunderbolt pose.’ the goal is to like, envision your spine as a straight line, and use your knees to push your ass like a stick that drives the line into your forehead into the ground. i like to periodically scoot my knees close to my neck/chest so the ‘pushing stick’ of my ass can ‘bear down’ on my head more. it feels nice to roll my head around slowly, like, using my pushing-ass-stick to bear down on isolated parts of my neck, but not too hard. also it feels good to interlace my fingers and put my arms as high in the air as i can, with the goal being to move towards the floor where my head is. it would be ideal to have a person constantly lifting my hips, like at ‘the sexy hinge parts,’ higher and higher up in the air so i can bear more weight down on my shoulders and neck. relaxing ass. 

RELAXING HEAD

this is the result of doing the thing i just described, like if a person were to lift the hinge-part of my hips. most of my weight is on the crown of my head and in my shoulders/upper arms. this is what i see people do in yoga classes before they do headstands. my arms are still too weak to do an unassisted headstand. ‘relaxing head’ only feels good for a short amount of time. in my memory it actually doesn’t feel physically good at all, i can’t remember the stretchy parts, i just sometimes feel like i ‘need’ to do it. okay. i’m going to do it again to see where it’s most relaxing: okay. it feels good all along the backs of my legs because i’m trying to make my heels touch the floor. ‘relaxing head’ honestly doesn’t feel that good. it feels good when i’m frustrated to put a lot of pressure on my head, like by pressing it into the ground i’m making contact with it or something, i can communicate ‘BE BETTER’ to it. i think it makes blood go to my head. fuck relaxing head. 

RELAXING FOLD

this one is my favorite. i do this when i’m around people/in public sometimes. have recent memories of rousing small groups into doing this one with me during all-night drug binges. the technical name for this pose sounds like ‘patahastasana.’ it’s also called ‘standing forehead-to-knee pose.’ i learned it in hot yoga. when i started doing this i needed to bend my knees really far. now i’m good. the bikram yoga teachers are all instructed say the same script when they teach. here are some things i remember hearing while in this pose: ‘no space between your forehead and your knees,’ ‘no space, no light, like a japanese ham sandwich,’ ‘eyes remaining open as your smiling, happy face pulls further to your knees,’ ‘elbows bending behind your knees,’ ‘pull your spine to the ground,’ ‘pulling is the object of stretching,’ ‘lock your knees,’ ‘PULL PULL PULL PULL THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE LOCK YOUR KNEES LOCK YOUR KNEES AND PULL.’ eventually your spine is supposed to be completely straight. bending over feels really good in general, for me. ‘relaxing fold’ is most relaxing around my lower back and the backs of my legs. if you ever see me in this pose, this is probably when it would be easiest to initiate sex with me. like, if you rub my lower back really slowly and push me down a little further. jesus. feel aroused. rubbing slowly and pushing down. pushing down slowly, while rubbing in circles. lower back. pulling up really fast on the hinge parts of hips. then rubbing the lower back nice and slow again. circles. then spank the ass. okay. then, that’s. relaxing fold, there it is. there you have it: relaxing fold.

3:01AM: half-heartedly tried rubbing and pushing my lower back by myself while in something resembling ‘relaxing ass’ pose. want sex badly. i read somewhere that if you don’t spay your female cat and she’s in heat you can put a q-tip up to her ass and she’ll back into it and be happy. i am so many miles away from anyone i want to have sex with. including this in the liveblog for. i’m not saying why i’m including questionable/embarrassing things anymore, you know why. currently enjoying sitting on my heel/foot and moving in tentative circle thing. jesus. don’t think i’m horny enough to actually masturbate. like everything is in order: the engine checks have been done, all passengers are accounted for, weather is good and the runway is clear, but don’t feel like flying this plane without a copilot. actually i’m the copilot. yeah, it’s just the copilot here, i’m waiting on denzel, he’s still doing the beginning part of the movie where he’s laying in an unmade bed with a pretty naked lady and it says ‘directed by: robert zemeckis’ and other things at the bottom of the screen and slowly we understand that the lady is not his wife and she and denzel have been drinking and using cocaine and have probably stayed awake all night but denzel needs to fly the airplane soon because that’s his job. we do not yet know the lady is a stewardess who dies. at this point in the movie i didn’t know it wasn’t a true story. the movie is ‘flight.’ i’m being…getting carried away with something, feel like no one’s paying attention. stopped being horny. thought ‘it all comes back to denzel.’ allowed myself to get distracted and forgot other tasks i want to be completing. going to buy a folder and stapler now. 

3:14AM: lol:

3:47AM: still have not left or moved much from position. realized i still ‘need’ to write ‘cover letter’ thing. copied and pasted all of this into a msword document. not counting this update it’s 6877 words. think i could easily write this much or more every day, and like, enjoy it, have been enjoying this. 

immediate plans: reapply sweater, drink energy drink, go to 24-hour grocery store to buy stapler and folder, *have happy goodtime thinky thoughts on drive where i get oh so inspired teehee*, arrive home, eat another adderall, write cover letter, do article. considering eating a molly for. time before cover letter. seems. like i have no reason not to. goddamnit. should i do this. 

**IF SOMEONE READS THIS CAN YOU TELL ME IF I SHOULD EAT THE MOLLY RIGHT NOW**

4:10AM: masha replied to one of my tweets & i asked her re molly. looked at things and re-read her liveblog. peep that liveblog y’all. a few minutes later she tweeted ‘nah cause last time i did molly after addy binge it wasn’t that great from cross tolerance’ and ‘but u know, u r the master of ur domain.’ looked at ‘cross tolerance’ and thought something about bees. decided not to eat the molly. will feel less able to do things tomorrow if i eat the molly. want to eat the molly. imagined baby dinosaur from that 90’s show ‘dinosaurs’ who says ‘not the mama’ saying ‘not the molly’ and shaking something at me antagonistically, startling me.

4:19AM: i can like, see a slight highlight of text behind this text, like a ribbon of slightly less white/more grey stuff under words i’m writing. unsure if this is a formatting thing or an eye thing. have not checked facebook all day. going outside now.

4somethingAM: writing this at 10:28AM, forgot to write about short gchat with ex-boyfriend, don’t think it was about anything important, mostly remember feeling like i didn’t understand why he wanted to talk to me and that something was upsetting but no one said the words about what was upsetting, or that maybe nothing was upsetting for him.

5:05am: looked at phone for first time in several hours and saw 5 texts. Walked to kitchen. Opened cabinets quietly. Drank several swigs of liquid antacid while responding to texts from Mira, Sam Cooke, Willis. Couldn’t think of funny way to respond to Alex. Also seemed ‘too late’ to text him via some idea I have that he is a responsible businessman even though I know he is a NYU student on spring break. Willis seems to be only person awake still. Writing this on iPhone.

5:10am: walked down stairs texting with Willis. Thought ‘at least it’s warm outside.’ Opened door and felt struck with coldness and an equally overpowering smell of ‘wet dog nose’/drying saliva. Entered car and turned key in ignition and continued text conversation as car warmed up. Said something about the dog-nose smell that I thought would be more interesting than it was. Think it’s only interesting to me because I’m here, smelling it. Said ‘Going to concentrate on driving now’ and conversation stopped a few moments later. Car feels lower to the ground than normal. Merged onto highway. Checked email. Irritated at mass Matt Monarch raw food newsletter email. Remembered Ellen Kennedy tweet like ‘I am responsible for the zero emails in my inbox,’ I feel that.

6:00am: read entire liveblog while driving full circle of the Baltimore-Washington beltway. Drank energy drink. Listened to Girl Talk and felt myself identifying all the parts of all the different songs as ‘unique and precious specimens in my menagerie of ‘friends” (used to call stuffed animal collection my ‘friends’ when I was little). Was almost perceiving sounds in 3D shapes and colors like the iTunes visualizer, but less intense/range-of-vision-dominating. This is hard to explain. Seems boring to read, also. Seems boring to explain. Okay, just that like, there was a barely perceivable clear overlay on my vision of colored ribbons and shapes that was similar to the colors and shapes that move around on the backs of my eyelids when my eyes are closed, but the overlay thing seemed less ‘actually real’ and more cartoon-y in its image in my head. Could have also just said ‘the image in my head almost seemed to be occurring on the same plane of existence as me, driving.’ Don’t currently feel creative in other ways than sitting here, experiencing this, the boringness of explaining something interesting. Tired, physically. Feeling inner monologue whining things like ‘this is easy for other people, other people just do things, other people would’ve finished their things by now.’ Think once I start working at a job with regular hours again I might feel better. Have been replaying conversations I had with Sam Pink while we were both in NYC a few days ago. Remember looking for my car with him and saying ’wish I had a voodoo grandma’ and some combination of his face or things he said causing me to think he ‘got it’ or at least didn’t want to stop the conversation. Remember seeing him in ‘shirt I wouldn’t have predicted’ and noticing color of his eyes for maybe the first time before the Housing Works reading and thinking ‘what do I say,’ then doing some kind of physical greeting with him and feeling like, wetness on my face, but not near the normally wet parts. Eyes looked grey but then looked more brown. I don’t notice people’s eyes, I think, unless it looks like there is a person behind them controlling where they look, feel like Sam has eyes like that. Wonder if he’s reading this. Seems 15-60% likely. Feel ‘coy’ and indirect and maybe a little ashamed or something, writing this. Wonder if anyone has read this far/this whole thing. The sky is dark still but there are a lot of morning commute cars on the road. Never think there are also people like me on the road. Lost wandering shitheads. Wish there was a Grindr-like iPhone app for lost wandering shitheads, so you could locate others. I still probably wouldn’t use it/participate/meet/talk to anyone. For my article I’m going to write about apps I wish existed. Good. Held phone in right hand and had no thoughts for a few seconds then thought ‘guess now you should write that you’re glad you know what you’ll be writing about now’ then ‘durrrrrr’ (the ‘durrrrrr’ was thought on purpose).

6:14am: took foot completely off the gas ‘for fun.’ Currently in Eldersburg, MD near a 24-hour grocery store and the house where I lived from ages 10-22. Heard not-unpleasant stereotypical morning bird tweeting at stoplight. Feels strange but good to say ‘tweet’ not in the context of Twitter. Still completely dark outside. Just passed large bald man wearing reflector tape on his back, walking on shoulder of road.

6:20am: Let a truck merge in front of me. Every time I see a truck now I feel something like loss and jealousy and regret. Like, ‘there goes the life full of adventure and financial and temporary existential certainty I almost had but was too stupid and drug-addled and drifting and afraid to attain.’ Feel like truck drivers know this about me and can sense ‘waves of inefficiency’ evaporating from me out the roof of my car. I have not publicly addressed my failure to be a truck driver yet and am uncomfortable about how vocal and certain I was about it before I messed up. Also unsure if I will drive trucks in the future so maybe I haven’t ‘messed up’ or failed all the way yet. I don’t know what I want. Life is so long. I just want to be okay. Feel close to crying right now in parked car in grocery store parking lot. Typing that/thinking about how to communicate my location replaced urge to cry. Parked across from car that’s had its headlights on this entire time. Body feels achy. Going inside.

6:37am: still sitting here. Car is getting colder. ‘Headlights car’ across from me ‘finally’ drove away. Feel afraid to go inside for some reason. Might just go back home and come back later. Yes I feel good thinking that, going to come back later. Stomach is burning again goddamnit.

6:46am: sky looks navy blue and there are street lights making these trees look orange, looks really pretty. Still sitting in parked car. Putting too much effort into liveblog, need to refocus. Car is fully cold again.

6:48am: turned head to the left and caught a whiff of me. Thought ‘hey I smell okay’ like it was the catch phrase in the middle of the theme song to a kid’s Saturday morning non-cartoon TV show. Like a balding man in a sweatshirt would pop up from a clearing in a cardboard forest and say ‘hey I smell okay!’ then the offscreen characters would start singing the refrain of the theme song one last time and gradually appear in a circle as the title graphic descends in front of them. The sweatshirt man would like, run at the last minute to join the rest of the cast who were already posed by the title graphic, then the show would begin. It would happen every time the same way before the new episode.

6:53am: need to refocus.

6:56am: I’m driving out of the parking lot now, can’t believe I just did this, I just sat there the whole time oh my god. Lawdy lawdy honeychile, shoot. Sittin there. Shoot. Peace be witchoo honeychile. 

7:04am: would be funny if that was the last thing I ever typed before fatal car collision. Or if this was the last thing. Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this. Or this. Okay guess it’s not going to happen.

7:08am: OR THIS!!!!!!!!!

7:09am: laughed really loud. For maybe three seconds.

7:11am: want to stress that the ‘three seconds’ thing is not a comment on…nevermind…

7:21am: did several tricky driveway-based maneuvers to get shitty picture of this field where there are like 6 radio towers that I talked about in this thing and like to drive by sometimes:

Maybe I am ready to go back to the grocery store now. Think I am. Pictured chuckling Obama finding my eyes in a crowd, not looking away and saying ‘yes, you can,’ then coming closer to me, making a concerned face, placing his hand on my shoulder and saying, ‘Yes. You can,’ then walking away without breaking eye contact, gesturing to his watch while mouthing the words ‘it’s time’ and winking.

7:36am: I am making a left turn in the opposite direction. I am not ready for the grocery store yet. It is wise that I know this. I don’t want to waste my time. Oh my god. Laughing silently at me, going home, this needs to stop, almost out of gas.

7:39am: realized I have been taking this ‘time is valuable I am wasting it’ thing too seriously. Which is part of why I think I feel urges to do long stretches of nothing. Also this is not a new discovery for/about me. Think I just felt momentary clarity about how none of this means anything, like anything I’m trying to achieve is like…why….in the spectrum of things…also that is not a new realization. I know that in order for me to want to stay alive I need to assign meanings/importance to certain things. Think I just want to be a kid forever, that’s my real thing. The real thing I want. Seems unfair to do all this other shit. Would like to be like, a ‘kept woman.’ I forget what that means. I think it’s what I want.

7:47am: turned left onto road where childhood house is. Seems to be interesting timing. There is a small white dog running to the end of its leash in someone’s yard. Pretty girl in purple coat is walking to bus stop I think, fixing her hair with her hands. Long straight blonde hair. Seems cooler and prettier and somehow older than I was when I was however old she is. Thought I’d be feeling something poignant related to childhood/seeing these things but I’m not aware of having feelings right now. Took picture of old house.

7:57am: would be funny to buy a cop car and just like, drive it.

8:09am: emailed radio tower picture to myself. When I touched thumbnail of old house picture it appeared for a second then became a grey screen. Tried it a few times and the grey screen always happened. Seems ‘spoOoOoky’/annoyingly symbolic. This is what happened when I tried to take a really fast screenshot of it, think I accidentally deleted original picture:

8:20am: pulled into BP gas station. The only empty spot required maneuvering around a large woman in a hot pink shirt and bright yellow pants standing between a car and a hard-to-describe fixture. Scared I locked keys in car and opened door ‘just in case.’ Pictured future where I’d need to call a locksmith but my phone was still locked in the car. Stopped picturing that future. Gas station is across from the same Jiffy Lube where I got my oil changed before driving to New York a few weeks ago when ex-boyfriend was house/cat-siting there and I ‘tagged along’ to look for apartments. Might’ve just been last week though. Seems like the oil change was a ridiculously long time ago, like I’ve had multiple birthdays since then. Three men in uniforms are standing by the Jiffy Lube garage entrance smoking. Looks like an Edward Hopper painting. Wish I was one of them.

8:28am: I have been smoking the shit out of this pack of cigarettes. It was almost full earlier tonight and now there are 5 left. I dislike myself for writing this but I’m in a mood where I want to say ‘smoking the shit out of these cigarettes’ and feel like I shouldn’t exclude that I’ve been smoking.

8:31am: I don’t know why I always dread pulling into a driveway or getting off a train or bus or recognizing my street when walking or other ways I’ve ‘arrived home’ in the past. Always feel better when I’m on the way to somewhere even if I don’t end up going anywhere.

8:36am: feel really bad. Made fun of myself in a mean-spirited way while watching fingers type ‘8:36am.’

8:38am: ‘in case you are just tuning in,’ here is what happened: around 2AM I started enjoying writing about nothing in the interest of generating content for a liveblog which was originally designed to ‘keep me on track’ and not do misguided productivity things. I guess at least I feel like I’ve been doing something, which is better than how I usually feel. This is okay, everything is okay. Pictured decrepit old man in underground cave/prison like in the most recent ‘Batman’ grinning with no teeth and saying ‘you must always forgive the most hated man. Even you: the most hated man. Until you forgive this man you will never know true power’ to me through iron bars separating us.

9:02AM: walked inside. got green juice from fridge and drank more liquid antacid. ate 20mg adderall and read over everything i wrote on iphone for small edits. feels okay to be doing this, like i’m preparing for something but i don’t know what. 

9:47AM: heard dad move around and coffee start dripping. want another cigarette. want to just turn this in as my ‘everything i owe to everyone.’ just remembered title of everclear song incorrectly as ‘everything to everyone.’ no wait, that’s right i think. maybe it is time to try the grocery store again. feel like if it were sunny outside and i was waking up to my cats walking on my stomach on a mattress near the smell of a person i like things would be different. think that’s all i want. i don’t even want sex that much, i just want to always be near the smell of someone i like, whose presence is like equal parts ‘hallucinogen’ and ‘antidepressant’ and ‘anxiolytic,’ like i can just look at them and think ‘great, now they’re here, time for me to sit back and listen to all the surprises.’ that sounds lazy maybe. i want them to want a person like that too so i can be like that for them too. doesn’t seem real/possible. think i’m always on the verge of experiencing one of two extremes about other people. have experienced these rare insane manic connections, like ‘beyond my wildest dreams’-style connections, which i’ve probably only felt so intensely because i’ve wanted to feel that way (often remember things and think ‘you were just ignoring something so you could feel something else’). on a chart about how i feel most of the time most of my dots would be in the middle-to-‘opposite of intensely connected to people’ spectrum. when the opposite thing feels extreme it also seems attributable to disappointments about close relationships, but think it for real only involves other people to the extent that my ideas about their intentions are caused by this arcane primal fear that always seems to be experiencing itself over and over from some hidden location in me, syncing infrequently with my awareness, more often surfacing as a vague and nearly-constant desire to apologize for something i’ve done, will probably do, or have already and unstoppably been doing ‘this whole time’ just by being alive. but neither of those feelings, even the extreme connection thing, have anything to do with other people, i don’t think. they are both supposed to be feelings about other people but they are both about me. think it’s impossible for me to be close with someone in the way i think i want to be, or that most people are, or that i’ve thought i’ve been or something. the ‘sit back and listen to all the surprises’ thing like, seems more hopeful than the ‘maintaining extreme closeness over time’ thing, for me. like, if there’s going to be anything. actually it might be the same thing. i don’t know. like ‘even when i’m so connected i’m always so alone and so tortured by a fear which cannot be expressed clearly’ or whatever it is i’m saying with this bullshit—like, what is the point? would it logically follow that the the point of ‘feeling connected’ to someone would be to just continue feeling so similar that you eventually sort of become them, but then you’d just be the same thing, which is the same thing as being alone? MAN FUCK THIS SHIT MAN LISTEN TO THIS BITCH OVER HERE, ACTIN ALL LIKE IT’S 9:47AM BUT IT’S 1:51PM AND SHE TWERKIN ON ADDERALL AND NO SLEEP TRYNA MAKE A FUCKIN SHIT ASS SENTENCE MAKE SENSE THAT DON’T EVEN MATTER LIKE WHAT’S GONNA HAPPEN NOW BITCH, NICE SENTENCE, WHERE THAT $1,000,000,000,000 CHECK? WHERE THAT PENTHOUSE AT? AIN’T YOU SUPPOSED TO WIN THE GRAMMYS OR SOME SHIT NOW YOU BITCH ASS WRITIN THIS GODDAMNED SENTENCE FOR TWO HOURS? HM? SMELL YOUR GODDAMN ARMPIT. THAT’S RIGHT. SMELL ON THAT A MINUTE. MMHMM. THAT’S RIGHT. THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT. YEAH I THINK IT’S TIME TO GO TO THAT GROCERY STORE. I THINK IT’S TIME TO GO TO THAT FUCKIN GROCERY STORE FUCKIN SEVEN HOURS AGO WHEN YOU WAS ALL ‘TEEHEE GOING TO GET A STAPLER AND A FOLDER NOW BECAUSE THOSE ARE THINGS THAT I WANT AND NEED OH BOY LOOK AT ME GO!’ YOU BETTER HOPE I DON’T LOOK IN A MIRROR SOON BECAUSE BITCH IF I SEE YOU LOOKIN BACK AT ME YOU AND ME IS BOTH IN PIECES. P-I-E-C-E-S. I THINK YOU KNOW I AIN’T TALKING REESES BUT NOW THAT YOU MENTION IT, FUCK YOU YOU STUPID SKINNY ASS HO, GETTIN ALL PROUD WHEN YOU BE STARVIN YOUR SKINNY ASS SAYIN ‘IT’S HEALTHY’ OR SOME SHIT, I WANNA STRAIGHT UP X-RAY THE SHIT OUT YOUR HEALTHY ASS ROTTEN ASS DIGESTIVE TRACK, SHOW A BITCH WHAT HEALTHY IS. GET Y’ALL FUCKED UP STOMACH AND ‘TESTINES UP HERE ON THE COUCH WITH ME SO YOU CAN SEE FOR YOURSELF ALLA THEM HOLES YOU BE MAKIN THAT GOT YOU SIPPIN ON THAT ANTACID! BITCH—NOW I KNOW YOUR ASS GOT NO PLACE TO GO BUT THE FLOOR AND NOT CAUSE YOU AT THE CLUB—AND YEAH SOMETHIN BOUT YOUR LEGS UH, THEY JUST NASTY, UH, I DON’T KNOW, SHIT DON’T LOOK HUMAN TO ME PERSONALLY, BUT GET THAT SHIT TOGETHER! THAT SHIT’S THE ONLY SHIT YOU GOT! YOU STUCK IN THIS SHIT! OH YOU WHININ WITH SOME LONG SENTENCES BOUT HOW YOU SO LONELY OH YOU SO SAD AND ALONE I SEE UH WELL UH, UH, SEE HERE M’AM, YOU ARE USING DRUGS TO THE EXTENT, UH, M’AM, ALSO WITH THIS UH, YOU SEE, THIS UH, M’AM YOU EAT THIS FOOD AND THEN YOU VOMIT, THEN UH, THE LAXATIVES, YOU SEE? M’AM, AND THE CIGARETTES? UH, M’AM, AND FOR HOW MANY YEARS? YOU SEE WHERE I’M GOING WITH THIS M’AM? M’AM? OKAY GREAT GLAD YOU SEE, GLAD YOU SEE, OKAY. GREAT. GREAT, WELL THIS IS GREAT BECAUSE ALL OF THIS HAS BEEN IN AN EFFORT TO TELL YOU THAT IT WAS ALL A MISUNDERSTANDING. WE HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR THIS DAY. IF YOU LOOK OUT THE WINDOW YOU WILL SEE THE CAR WE HAVE PREPARED. REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE? THIS JOB? YOU TOOK THIS JOB, REMEMBER? YOU ARE A PROFESSIONAL FAMOUS ACTOR? YEAH MAN. HELL YEAH MAN! FIVE YEARS MAN, WELCOME BACK! YOU JUST GOT SO DEEP INTO THIS ROLE. METHOD ACTING. YEAH. YOU GOT SO DEEP INTO METHOD ACTING ‘THE TERRIBLE TRAGEDY OF MEGAN BOYLE’ THAT YOU FORGOT YOUR OWN IDENTITY. RELENTLESS, MAN. YOU. ARE. RELENTLESS. YOU EVEN CONVINCED YOURSELF YOU OVERDOSED AND KILLED YOURSELF IN SOME APARTMENT IN MANHATTAN. TO IDENTIFY WITH HER, WE THINK. WE THINK THAT’S WHY YOU DID IT. YEAH, IT’S BEEN YEARS SINCE YOU’VE TALKED TO ANYONE. YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE IN A ‘BATMAN’ MOVIE. NO, NO, THAT OTHER GUY ISN’T REAL, WE DON’T KNOW WHY YOU DID THAT, SOME PEOPLE ARE SAYING YOU MADE UP THIS OTHER VERSION OF YOURSELF—THIS ALTERNATE MEDIA REALITY OR SOMETHING—IT’S COMPLICATED, I DON’T FULLY UNDERSTAND THIS—YOU CONVINCED YOURSELF YOU WERE THE ‘YOU’ YOU THOUGHT YOUR CHARACTER WANTED TO SEE. RELENTLESS. AND I MEAN, SAD STORY AND ALL BUT SHE REALLY DIDN’T SEE THINGS TOO UH, HOW DO YOU SAY, ‘CLEARLY’ HAHA, AM I RIGHT? YOU JUST NEEDED TO UNDERSTAND. YEAH MAN. THERE’S A LINE IN THE MOVIE, SHE SAYS SOMETHING LIKE ‘WHY ARE YOU SO SERIOUS?’ YOU REALLY TOOK OFF WITH THAT. YOU DIDN’T GET WHY SHE SAID THAT, YOU KNOW, WITH HER BEING SO SERIOUS ALL THE TIME. SO THEN YOU MADE UP THIS THING ABOUT HOW THERE WAS A NEW ‘BATMAN’ MOVIE AND HER REAL MOTIVATION IN THE SCENE WAS ALL ABOUT HOW SHE THOUGHT SHE SOUNDED LIKE AN IDIOT MISQUOTING THE JOKER, PLAYED BY YOU, WHO WAS ALSO HER, IN HER MIND, AND NONE OF YOU WERE ACTING ANYTHING LIKE JACK NICHOLSON. MAN IT’S SOME CRAZY SHIT. YOU GOTTA SEE THE TAPES. FUCKING 2008 MAN, IT’S BEEN A LONG ASS TIME! GOOD TO HAVE YOU BACK!

…(9:47a.m. cont.): aware of whining/complaining right now. expressing nonspecific longing. here is some specific longing:

this is the apartment i am trying to live in: 

this is the building containing the apartment i’m trying to live in which is in front of some lampposts which are in front of the ocean which is hard to see: 

it seems hard to be unhappy here, but in a way that like, i don’t think i’ll ever get to experience the happiness. something will always be unhappy here or else i won’t get to live here and it will always be ‘the place i never lived where there might have been happiness’ or something else will happen or god i don’t know. it doesn’t matter where i live. 

10:32AM: heard dad’s slippers approaching on carpet. he asked if i wanted coffee. i said ‘not right now, thank you though.’ he said something about it being very fresh while he walked away. mom also asks if i want coffee whenever she makes it. think in the past 2-3 years i’ve said ‘i’ll get it if i want it’ in varying tones of annoyance, sometimes to the point where it’s a heightened argument about ‘being considerate.’ some time in the past few months i’ve decided it’s better for everyone if i just say ‘not right now, thank you’ or ‘smells good, thank you, maybe later.’ for some reason i never want it when they ask me, but sometimes less than a minute later i’ll get it for myself, stepping as softly as i can, trying to be unnoticeable as i pour a cup of ‘my little secret’ which i carry back to my room where i feel about six years old. this happens every time. i don’t know how to stop it unless people stop asking me if i want coffee but no one is ever going to stop. 

10:48AM: debated getting coffee for some time, like, as soon as my dad left my room i thought about running after him into the kitchen and being like ‘beat you to it! beat you to it, you old chestnut!’

10:51AM: walked softly into kitchen and drank more liquid antacid. said ‘do you think it’d be good if i used it, you know, like this, for coffee’ and looked for dad so i could demonstrate using the liquid antacid as creamer. didn’t see dad. almost started to say something again but then heard a rustling noise and saw movement. heard his voice say ‘what now?’ watched him emerge from a hidden corner-area, holding a newspaper. i said ‘like, use it for creamer? a creamer substitute, this stuff, you know.’ he looked confused. i said ‘i don’t even like cream, so like, especially this would be bad.’ he didn’t move for a moment, then he seemed to ‘get it’ and laughed. he made a joke back at me. a little later he asked for my permission to show me an article he was reading about how irish people behave in the morning. he said ‘your ancestors, you know. irish heritage. it’s here if you want it.’ i felt guilty or sad or something. i said ‘maybe later, i’m on a roll now, doing things.’ he asked what things. i told him i had been driving around writing this liveblog thing for most of the night and that now i wanted to ‘knuckle down’ with other things. felt really guilty. seemed hard to walk back to my room. we kept saying things. i said ‘i think i need to just rest for awhile, you know, slow down before i do the things.’ he said ‘of course.’ felt really guilty. 

11:07AM: peed and felt very focused on thinking ‘did i respond to the real estate agent,’ like for the whole length of the pee.

11:12AM: thought i had brought antacid into room with me. looked for it in bathroom too. keep ‘wretching,’ like acid comes up for vomit, stomach seems extremely irritated. the last solid foods/’unhealthy foods’ i ate were the raspberry cookies over 24 hours ago. 

3:19PM: want to be talking in insane unprecedented 9:47AM update voice all the time. seems funny to read 11:12AM update after writing insane update. i wrote update awhile ago, i think. didn’t think it’d be 3something when i looked at clock.

4:29PM: sitting on bed. liveblog seems unhealthy. afraid to re-read other things i’ve written that aren’t the all caps thing. all-caps thing seems like the only ‘good thing’ about this, maybe, right now, to me. i don’t know. 

TONAL SHIFTS OF LIVEBLOG

#0: optimistic, productive, goal-oriented

tone shift #1: bored, wanting to avoid other productive things, trying to be interesting

tone shift #2: obsessive, bout of zaniness/hopelessness, something like ‘honeychile’

tone shift #3: pretentious, introspective, horrible

tone shift #4: affectedly…something…hard to say…posting more pictures, sometimes sarcastic, careless, addressing audience/aware of people reading more or just ‘keeping myself company’ w/idea of me as another person

tone shift #5: all caps thing

tone shift #6: apathetic, ‘treading water’ maybe

REMINDER OF MY GOAL: TO LIVEBLOG DAILY ACTIVITIES WITHOUT PRIVACY AS A FORM OF NEGATIVE REINFORCEMENT, TO ‘ACT BETTER’

don’t really know what i meant by ‘act better.’ ‘get things done.’ i don’t know. i don’t know. it is raining outside. i am going to the grocery store. WHEN I GO TO THE GROCERY STORE I WILL WALK IN THE DOOR AND BUY THE THINGS I SAID I WOULD BUY, THEN I WILL LEAVE. MY DEAR CHILD, WHAT EVER STOPPED YOU FROM DOING SUCH PRACTICAL THINGS? seems extremely pointless…entire thing…entire…jesus…laughing…wish someone would call me…kind of…

4:45PM: immediately after typing ‘wish someone would call me’ looked at my phone, which has 5 missed calls, 1 voicemail, 2 texts from mira. ‘rimshot.’ do people know what ‘rimshot’ is anymore or do they just think it’s about anal something

5:35PM: this thing is 11k words long. have spent longer amounts of time ‘marathon silent’ and ‘marathon awake’ but this is probably the most i’ve written in a 24-hour period. feels terrible. heard water stop runningn from the shower then it made a hilarious long noise that i could probably imitate if you called me. would hang up immediately after making the noise. serious inquiries only (4109780648). hope in 6045 some kind man finds this and comes back in time to kill me relatively painlessly when i leave the house in a few minutes. wrote this paragraph as a method of proving ‘you can still sound a certain way if you try, you don’t feel as bad as you thought’

making the shower noise at people on the phone then hanging up on them would also improve mood

if you’re going to do it, when i pick up the phone say ‘shower’ so i won’t make the noise to a real estate person

no one is going to do this

would be so good if i could just…say ‘shower’ and instantly 500 people would make a noise…does not have to be identical to the shower noise i heard but…ah, dreams, no?

just made the noise really quietly, i’m laughing, i’m practicing it for you shitheads, come at me

doing it again

did not laugh at all that time

6:19PM: someone just called me from google talk, i think. this is what was said:

me: hello?

person: hi megan, i was wondering if you could do the shower noise at me?

me: oh man i think i kind of forget. i’m going to hang up right after.

person: ok

me: [makes noise, hangs up]

i’m like, still shaking from laughing from getting to do this, thank you whoever called me. 

6:23PM: dad called as i was writing previous thing and got really excited. then unknown number from portland oregon called and i said ‘hello’ in a playful way, extending the last ‘lo.’ seemed to be talking to woman like that woman from ‘the office’ who sits near stanley. someone born on 3/29/72 is giving my phone number to people. COME AT ME BRO I LIKE PHONE CALLS I’LL CORRECT TELEMARKETERS ON THE PHONE ALL DAY LONG WATCH ME

6:29PM: responded to texts from mira and masha. stored masha in my phone. person who called me asking for shower noise texted ‘how many people have called for the noise’ and i said ‘just you.’ wanted to keep going like, ‘just you, just you baby, it’s always been you, only you, this entire time, you know it’s true’ but have them read it and it sounds like elvis.

6:49PM

something just happened. my mom showed me this thing my dad apparently mailed to her and asked me to guess what it was. then it seemed like she wasn’t going to wait for me to guess after all. wanted to guess it really badly, like could tell guessing this would be the highlight of my day or something. really seemed like she wasn’t going to let me guess. mom was like, squeezing its handle at me and this little rubber mouth thing was moving, it was a sphincter-like movement. 

mom: [comes at me with thing, pressing handle, cackling]

me: no get the jebadoh away

mom: what?

me: i said jebadoh, but i meant ‘jedi’

mom: oh my god

[somehow deduced this thing is used for something pertaining to the toilet, goddamnit now i forget, was laughing in a manner like i was gasping for air this whole time, think i said ‘if you don’t wash your hands before you use it will people stop being your friend’ and mom said ‘yes’ and i laughed more, somehow deduced this thing is designed to grasp toilet paper and aid in ass wiping, it’s an ass wiper, couldn’t stop laughing] 

mom: your dad saw it in one of those tacky magazines he likes, you know, ‘robin wright…’

me: are you going to say ‘robin wright penn’

mom: well or you know, it’s something like that, ‘wright’

me: sean penn’s wife, robin wright penn

mom: there’s a catalog called ‘robin write’

me: asswipes, robin wright penn [can’t stop laughing]

mom: it’s ‘walter drake’

me: walter drake, harriet carter [can’t stop laughing]

i know the feeling of reading about how someone laughed. i hate that feeling but too bad. going to read this over and over again all by myself and laugh forever and ever.

8:52pm: stood in kitchen leaning on counter looking at phone. Mom said ‘what are you doing? Are you just standing quietly?’

8:55pm: asked mom the name of the movie she said she wanted to watch at 9. She said she didn’t remember. Said ‘I bet you’ll remember when I get back’ in a strange voice while descending stairs. Locked door. Thought about how those would be really good last words. ‘I bet you’ll remember when I get back.’ Actually might be better for murdering, in murder situations, murder-specific.

8:56pm: squinted to see through rain/windshield and felt like Wayne knight/’Newman’ when his Jeep breaks down in ‘Jurassic Park.’ Seems hard to see. Mistaking a lot of things for other things. I know people like to shittalk how people say ‘feel like’ and ‘seems like.’ That’s all. Just, know that I know that. I know you do that. I’m watching you.

9:01pm: no one is responding about whether they think I could’ve been born male. I’m not trying to say something about gender, or like, make anyone think about…honestly don’t know what. I don’t know. Just curious.

9:08pm: feel like I’m dying. Pictured annoying Zen figure thing hitting my head with a stick and saying ‘you are.’

9:34pm: mental functions seems rapidly deteriorating. Van in front of me says ‘your next car: PenskeCar.com’ but I mean is that really my next car gotta give them a call

9:42pm: got lost somehow. going to dad’s is what i’m doing, on the way to do. pulled into CVS parking lot to recalibrate GPS. Thinking things like ‘certains’ and ‘chumly’ and ‘fiendish’ and ‘barnaby the string eater’ looking at apple right now how’d this apple get here

9:44pm: ended voicemail to real estate agent with ‘okay, bye-bye.’

9:52pm: going to type what I’m thinking in rapid succession: I’m losing it, my marbles, off my rocker, rocking out, heavy metal garage band, toy boat, where my dads, blinky buttress, that show on MTV with Matt Pinfield, did I ever mow the lawn completely, mow mow, mowrats, the momeraths out grabe, powpowpower wheels, dicey jukebox, the hellish landscapes of a Peruvian metal crisis, financial distress

11:36pm: somehow was capable of having unanticipated heated vague two-hour conversation with dad about problems with our interactions, which ended with us hugging a few times and making jokes. When I walked through door he almost immediately presented me with ‘Mindfulness and Depression’ CD and other things in a hurried manner, repeating himself a lot, pointing to things on his credit report and explaining them to me as if I was the person who would be assessing it, but it was like he thought he was ‘in trouble’ with me and forgot who I was, and for some reason instead of nodding and being quiet so it would be over soon I said ‘when you explain and repeat so many things to me all at once and present me with unsolicited help I feel like it means you think I don’t understand things and need to be fixed so I’m sort of a failure, and since I’m a failure it might mean you think you failed at parenting me or something, I worry about that, I feel guilty or something.’ Also remember saying ‘when I can tell someone has a lot of anxiety about talking with me and seems to mostly just want my approval I don’t feel comfortable around them, I act fake and nod my head, I wish I didn’t feel like doing that with you.’ Also talked about how I don’t like it when he asks for ‘permission to interrupt me’ before he comes into whatever room I’m in or says something to me even though I say ‘just always come in, it’s always okay’ and have been telling him this for years. Said ‘I feel like if someone I liked told me I didn’t need to do anxious behavior around them I’d be happy.’ Told him his asking me that sometimes seems sarcastic because I thought he knew I was never doing anything important, but he denied that strongly, he has always thought I’ve been doing something important. He seemed receptive and asked questions and had problems with me too, which were mostly reactions to my problems with him, which is a similar dynamic I have in relationships, which is, I don’t know. Feel like a little tyrant or something, typing this, like he is a kind generous man who wants good things to happen to me so I shouldn’t feel problems. Told him that and he expressed a strong preference for me not keeping problems to myself. Those were the main points, I think. It’s always sort of hard for me to remember exactly what my dad says, like he uses a lot of nonspecific buzzword-style language. He says things like ‘the self’ and ‘being for the sake of being’ and pronounces pronouns like they start with capital letters sometimes. At one point tonight he said something about how my mom has emotions but he feels flat all of the time. I looked at him and said ‘you seem sad to me’ without looking away and he slowly nodded/shrugged and pressed his lips together. Wanted to do something. Looked around his apartment and thought about how he has thought about places for all his things to go and has arranged them there on purpose, like, an area of slightly different Harley Davidson and Beatles gift-y things given to him by the same people, little statues and toys in a line on a mantle, unopened snack boxes in a line and back-ups of the snacks in the pantry, copies of CDs and self-help books and manila folders stacked carefully in neat piles everywhere, affirmations and phone numbers on post-its stuck in unusual places, a lot of pens, an expensive-looking TV which I think he bought because he thinks my mom likes TV and we used to watch movies a lot when we all lived in the same house. Sometimes he says things about his ‘entertainment center’ and how good the sound is. In his bedroom there is a professionally colored-in, formerly black-and-white photo of him smiling in a Navy uniform in 1957 or 1958, I think, which is too large to fit inside a bookcase shelf so it is on the very top between two bouquets of fake flowers all touching the ceiling, which feels especially sad to me, not in a pitiful way, but in a way that makes me want to make his life better for him and wish that things could’ve been better.

 

MARCH 19 2013

12:16am: have returned to parking lot of 24-hour grocery store. Felt very strongly that I wouldn’t go in on the drive here, but now there is less time. People are sitting by the inoperable entrance smoking and talking. Can hear them as if they were a radio station in my car. Just thought it was possible for me to press something on my phone to immediately ‘show you this.’

12:18am: there we even more employees sitting at the operable entrance, like 5-7 sitting at tables with umbrellas. I’m shivering. I need to find folders and a stapler. A hole punch. Energy drink. Shivering. I haven’t eaten today or slept since whenever I mentioned it in liveblog. Pronounced it ‘live-[rhymes with boaje]’ in my head, like, French. French-Canadian.

12:24am: a maybe Paula Abdul song is playing. have been staring at this in disbelief and sometimes making little noises for entire duration of song so far. LIke 90 seconds of the song so far, safe estimate. It says ‘title page pocket’ about the title page pocket and it shows you a picture of it too. Unbelievable. Look at the all the hands. Oh my god…

12:30am: now ‘Simply the Best’ by Tina Turner is playing. Keep gawking and laughing at things, like, can’t believe this is what I’m seeing—‘party time,’ ‘married for life,’ ‘go for it.’ All of this seems specifically arranged just for me, right now. Aware of being the only observable customer here, who probably appears more concerned with standing still and staring into their phone than shopping for goods. Moving only to avoid looking suspicious. Sensed a person nearing me and in an effort to ‘act normal’ I narrowed my eyes towards the ceiling, like the lyrics of ‘Simply the Best’ were making me look elsewhere to more seriously contemplate them.

12:33am: old man pushing large thing on wheels just looked me in the eye like he was thinking ‘oh my god, I’d wish you well but what’s the use.’ Selected a Monster ‘Absolutely Zero’ energy drink. Absolutely zero. Simply the best. 

12:36am: a shitty philosophy class would have: ‘photo of barcode on red bull can next to actual barcode: which is more real?’ on the syllabus. I could teach the shit out of that class right now.

12:38am: an example of something ‘basic’ that isn’t widely regarded as ‘basic’ yet is the set-up of selecting the ‘no, that’s not ok’ option on an ATM screen and having the ATM argue with you.

12:40am: sitting in parking lot again. Forgot to mention I have been taking birth control pills every night around this time. Seems like a weird time to mention my coat smells like Dad’s cologne but hey I don’t make this shit happen I just write it down.

12:52am: driving. Seems highly unlikely that I’ll sleep tonight if I don’t take Xanax. If I eat the Xanax I will sleep really hard and will probably hit snooze too many times and miss real estate agent meeting tomorrow. I am meeting agent in NYC to give him papers tomorrow at 12:30pm. That is less than 12 hours from now. Four of those hours will be driving. Traffic. Consider showering and dressing, that takes time also. Should I eat the Molly now. Goddamnit. I have 6. Should I eat one then eat remaining adderall to drive. Seems like a good conservation of uppers. Megan Boyle: noted uppers conservationist. Uppers activist. Sleepless shivering retard. Molly eating seems so inevitable now, like being secretly gay and locked in an elevator with the man you’ve loved since ‘the war,’ who loves you too. The love that dare not speak its name. While typing sentence before last felt frustrated at how it wasn’t going fast enough to reach the part where I would say ‘the love that dare not speak its name’ but I was thinking ‘daren’t’ instead.

1:04am: debated driving around more and smoking additional cigarette then thought ‘end this hell’

1:07am: when my body feels achy like this I feel like it’s getting stronger, I don’t know, does anyone know if just being awake for long periods of time is exercise? 

1:24AM: arrived home. pooped twice. washed face and brushed teeth and did more boring things. typing more thoughts than events/interactions overall, i think, maybe from just not doing much but thinking a lot. hugged mom who was watching ‘the mary tyler moore show’ in bed. put on t-shirt dad gave me. he said he gave some people ‘some cash’ to help them put together a memorial show for a dead friend and they made the t-shirts and gave him one. i like everything about the shirt, the writing is more neon green than in the picture. 

1:35AM counted and re-counted only five molly pills in my pill thingy. walked back and forth between the kitchen and bedroom a few times, not taking time to look at anything. counted again. rampant molly outbreak. rampant. keep thinking ‘rampant.’ in order to be in new york i should be awake by 7AM and out the door by 7:30AM. typed ’12’ instead of ‘7’ unconsciously.

1:45AM: blended kale bunch with citrus kombucha. the blender required re-plug-ins and seemed loud every time it would resume blending. drank mixture and instantly felt more healthy and alert but also like the consistency was distractingly vomit-like. stopped being able to drink it without wretching. poured remaining 15-20% down the drain and remembered how a friend and i used to raise our hands in a ‘surrendering motion’ while shaking our heads and matter-of-fact-ly saying ‘can’t do it’ the way this person did in a woody allen movie i don’t remember. slight british accent. 

2:00AM: experimentally used porky pig voice to say ‘ba-theeba-theeba-theeba that’s all folks’ to mom, to indicate loud blender noise being over. she said ‘what?’ i walked to her doorway, made a diminishing circle with my hand around my face, then ‘stuck my head out of circle’ like porky pig and said ‘ba-theeba-theeba-theeba that’s all folks’ enunciating the things…sounds…slower…on purpose. unsure if she ‘got it.’ thought ‘surely she would ‘get this’’ but now it’s hard to say. re-filled kombucha bottle with water. 

2:26AM: responded to text from mira. swallowed the molly. ‘here we go.’ okay.

2:53AM: felt my heart beating extremely hard all of a sudden. palms are sweating. was typing/elaborating on earlier thing about dad’s apartment and thought my body was having a physical reaction to emotions but then remembered molly. shivering. shit. shit. shit. feel. shit. unable to. shit. what do i have to do. it’s going to be hard or something. the thing. looked around room suspiciously, like, expecting it to answer me, then eyes landed on unopened sugar-free red bull propped against my crotch, looking up at me sexily. doolooodobbooboob.

if 8oz sugar-free red bull can was a person: would look like the guy from that band handsome furs. just picked it up. it is very feathery and light. it might be lurch from ‘the addams family.’ do you guys get it, the person i’m trying to say it’s like? heart is beating definitely faster.

can’t tell if i’m supposed to be capitalizing things anymore. molly. thought ‘molly’ and laughed self-consciously, like i was supposed to be laughing, like someone was watching me be on molly and contemplate ‘molly.’

if my hands were a person: jesus.

jesus.

they would be a wet person.

made all 10 fingers do ‘the wave.’ the sound is like…pictured a well, like what kids get thrown down into, and like, a cave with a low grassy entrance with white flowers around it like where i used to imagine they kept jesus before he came back to life.

feel afraid of religious things right now. imagining hell, actual hell. no. i just wrote that, i’m not going to imagine it. shit. starting to imagine. idea virus of imagining hell infecting my head. no, doing this is warding it off. just say things as you think them to ward off hell thoughts: blake butler article about video game liveblogging, megabus, sears bra rack, baja, bajajajaja, lido deck, man overboard, polecat, cactus pop-up book, helpful secretary, Nicholson baker, egregious capitalization, gian’s apartment, soft heads of [nothing], grandpa luna moth, lunesta, backyard, deck, summer 1992, it was all 1992 when you were a baby and a kid there were never other years then it was 1998, copper pots hanging rustically from a kitchen ceiling, roller rink, no, like, an arcade, arcade where i won tiny erasers, eraserhead, begotten, shit no not begotten the movie that movie is like hell, remembered why i was doing this, curious about why begotten seemed so scary, i’m not scared anymore, if had an intern i would pay them to tell me exactly what my crotch smelled like right now

god 

can’t not do this

what my crotch smells like: i don’t know. honestly don’t know. pictured my detached head with flummoxed curious face spinning down an endless tunnel saying ‘honestly don’t know’ in every accent, mostly british accents. 

seems like there is a country called ‘crotch’

pictured throwing my hands up in surrender and shaking my head, no wait

going out onstage for an open-mic at stand-up comedy thing, saying ‘seems like there is a country called crotch’ with almost no facial or vocal expression

goddamnit women aren’t funny no one would laugh

sorry women, sorry me

gotta try to make this one work for all of us. make it up to us. hoo. chalking up my hands. jumping in the corner. coach is putting in my mouth guard. hoo

let me try this again, disregard the first time: going out onstage for an open-mic at stand up comedy thing, saying ‘seems like there is a country called crotch’ with almost no facial or vocal expression, then being completely silent for like 3 minutes, just like, staring intensely into the audience and urgently nodding head sometimes, then raising your hands in surrender and matter-of-factly saying ‘can’t do it’

i can’t tell if i’m horrible 

honestly enjoy the company of myself

this whole time i’ve been awake, yeah, hey. enjoying myself. well. not the whole time, we’ve there were ups and downs. had some ins and outs but you know. strong ins and strong outs. the main thing is keeping a strong defense, delivering for the team 

<iframe width=”560” height=”315” src=”http://www.youtube.com/embed/LeEOcA3oKfY” frameborder=”0” allowfullscreen></iframe>

wish i was saying these things right now, seems so sweet to be able to talk like that

stand-up comedian who gives earnest mumbled post-game commentary and never looks at the audience and it’s never clear what sport he plays

wonder how many blowjobs the guy who thought of using ‘fly like an eagle’ for the usps ad campaign in 1998 has gotten from then until now

TO THIS DAY

remembered imagining jesus storage cave earlier and pictured it again and jesus pushed back a big boulder at the entrance and blushed and ‘twinkled’ his fingers at me

seems like…endless ideas…am i going to regret this…

video game called ‘what thing in my room is a nut sack’ or ‘where is the nut sack’ which is actually just like, halo 10

lovingly cradled formerly crotch-leaning sugar-free red bull, looking down at it like mary mother of jesus. but then suddenly it would shoot upwards extremely fast and i’d still be holding onto it. then i would let go. it would try to bang its head on the ceiling to a make a hole so it could go live out its calling, which is to stop denzel’s plane from crashing, it received an email about its calling even before i bought it and it was in my crotch, it’s known all along but has not wanted to spoil something about how things have been going with us by telling me it wouldn’t always be here, but as soon as i find this out i am more able to be happy that it’s gone

i am the only person i know who says ‘denzel’ and talks about ‘flight’ a lot, feel i do those things a lot

remembered broccoli ‘wall’ on bottom level of union square whole foods and pointing to it and saying ‘is it breathing’ to tao

can’t remember if numbers go like ’11,200, 12,000,

jesus way too boring, ‘can’t do it’

heart is normal now

feeling less peaking am no longer peaking

forgot about feeling despair or obligation or overtired things earlier, didn’t expect that, thought i’d just tiredly go on

3:50AM: editing always seems daunting but i like doing it always

4:09AM: can’t believe i felt all of that so intensely, now feel like, mostly back to normal, shivering still, going to get in bathtub

6:02AM: i’ve just been reading and editing all but molly part, not going to edit that. when i started this a few days ago with the intention to motivate myself to write more and do more things, i think like, even doing the small amount that i’m doing is better than nothing. okay. that is my presidential campaign

6:36AM: stalling assembling real estate binder. earlier tonight brad list emailed this to mira and me:

then:

7:09AM: printed free credit report with freecreditreport.com and my hand smells like wet cat food. no it was $33. my credit is ‘medium.’ having credit cards that aren’t attached to your bank account seems like…i can’t believe that idea caught on…like, even i wouldn’t fall for that…of course places will…you’re always going to owe something to people who say ‘free money’ if you take the free money. credit cards seem like mafia business. feel like ‘old woman rickets’ or something, ranting to no one from my porch. maybe i should get mafia credit card. stalling letter-writing and showering. 7:16 shit 14 minutes. 

7:21AM: you can tell it’s a 30mg XR because it has the ‘deluxe transparant addy ball visualizer’ bottom-half. i don’t really have to leave until 8:30. that’s just a trick i do avoid being late when i know i’ll want to be late for fun but stakes are high and if i do the fun thing there will be consequences. high stakes mental clock readjustment. just another trick up the sleeve of old woman rickets. tricks of the trade. my friend brian and i used to do the voice of my dog, lady. she was overweight. the voice was lumbering and dopey and bumbling. one time lady was watching the fridge and brian said ‘oh, fiddlesticks. why won’t they ever let me go in the big white box?’ that’s what my brain sounds like right now. 

8:18AM: thought ‘give us this day, our daily [michael kimball’s smiling head engulfing entire screen, gradually windchimes can be heard]’ as a flash intro to some kind of website, a marketing thing…a union thing…presidential campaign…

9:14AM: not going to make it. i shouldn’t have said my high stakes consequences trick. real estate agent is three years younger than me, has been in the military, owns a business, i think does ‘tech things’ for an internet thing like comcast but i think he also owns that company, has not graduated college yet but will most surely definitely do that i think. dwarfs me with his success. we will be neighbors if i get apartment. feel like i would not rent to me, i would be able to tell i’m a nasty slumlord good-for-nothing. i would google the shit out of anyone who applied to live in my building. i want to own a parking garage. i need mafia credit cards to get credit to get loans to buy a parking garage. when have you ever heard of a parking garage going out of business? nasty slumlord. keep thinking about michael kimball head intro thing and occasionally laughing in forceful bursts. wish that existed and i could put it on the cover of my huge ass binder of everything there is to know about me i’m giving to apartment building/company/thing/i don’t know what i’m giving it to, exactly. maybe i am being scammed. would feel relieved, i think, if i found out this was all a scam. i could just do something else then.

9:22AM: for past week have semi-frequently been thinking about how i said something like ‘i feel like a richard yates character all the time lately, when i am older it this not be ‘cute” in my book. now feel like i am the ‘older’ where it is no longer ‘cute.’ most people i see or hang out with are under 24. wonder if they think of me as ‘older person’ now. the only people i’ve ever thought seemed older than me have also been like, substantially larger in size than me. would make sense if as you got older you got taller and more massive and like, everyone had a ‘dying height,’ you would just die when you reached 46’9” tall or something, instead of being 80 years old. yeah there just wouldn’t be ages anymore. heights instead. 

9:25AM: when people rapidly unfollow/refollow/unfollow, etc. me on twitter i have no idea what to think. even when they do it not-rapidly. what are you guys trying to do? do you do that with your banks? do you ever just like, run back and forth from the waiting room and parking lot at your doctor’s office? not being antagonistic, honestly don’t understand what people could be thinking when they do this.

9:32AM: sat on the floor and continued organizing ‘application binder’ on the floor. heard basketball dribbling-like banging noise coming from area behind my closet. then it went away. then it started again. felt extremely irritated by noise. mom walked into room and saw me at computer and knew i had been up all night again and seemed concerned. she said ‘mom things,’ then abruptly stopped talking and tilted head and looked alert. i said ‘yeah, the noise, it’s extremely irritating.’ she asked when it started. i said ‘just before you walked in’ and irrationally ‘blamed’ her for bringing the noise in with her. she said things about movers, then something about pipes or leaks, then ‘i’m supposed to call them if it’s…if there’s a leak, if the noises are coming from the roof. this has happened before, the banging,’ sounding like she was struggling to access an ‘emergency broadcast system’ message screensaver for her channel. i said ‘it doesn’t sound like from the roof, it sounds like from where i hear the baby crying,’ and pointed to the closet. mom seamlessly transitioned back into worrying about me.

9:52AM: kneeled in front of open fridge door ate bites of raw spirulina pie thing from lifethyme. tasted to rich, somehow. put it back. thought ‘catch and release.’ thought about newly permanent-seeming lack of interest in food. felt a little excited thinking ‘did i finally finish wanting food? what happens now? what will replace wanting food?’ then remembered drugs were probably responsible for appetite loss. i don’t know what the healthiest way to eat is. i like not-eating and eating equally, for different reasons. currently eating a banana to quell whale noises in stomach. am really taking my time with this banana too, like, showing it a good time, being careful to not make any sudden movements while it rests on my calf.

9:57AM: said ‘it’s coming from there’ about the banging and pointed to balcony. surprised that mom stood and walked out to the balcony so fast. followed her outside. mom said ‘when do you hear the sounds the baby makes?’ i said ‘not regularly, not lately. that’s a scary question.’ mom seemed to think i was referencing my fear of pregnancy and said ‘oh no! no, no, no.’ i said ‘no, no, no, i mean like scary like david lynch, like he’d have someone say that and then disappear or something. you know, good.’ mom seemed distracted by banging noises and kept darting her head around in meerkat-like manner. i said ‘maybe it’s a burglar, who will give us the lottery, wouldn’t that be exciting?’ mom smiled and made a face but seemed to be paying more attention to silences between banging noises. i said ‘it’s like an opposite kind of burglar.’

10:03AM: i know probably a lot of ‘real people’ or ‘grown-ups’ are happy when that ‘header/footer’ overlay thing shows up in msword but i have been trying to figure out how to remove word i accidentally typed in header box (‘staring’) since yesterday sometime.

10:23AM: keep writing ‘PM.’ banging noises seem insane and perfect. heard mom say ‘megan said she hears a baby, crying, next door’ gently on the phone to dad, like, a gentle pass of information. made highly exclusive video of waiting and looking for the banging noise. got the scoop on mom’s true feelings about MRIs. juicy details. wiretaps. sources. exclusive. i’m looking feral in this video:

[gave up figuring out how to embed click this instead for hot exclusive]

interested in never sleeping again maybe, dying…somehow…from that? if steve roggenbuck ever decides he wants to kill himself he will probably do it by staying up as long as physically possible so he could pack in the most life before death. imagined steve’s video campaign involving a lot of shots of him at the grand canyon. like, dramatic, panning shots and him yelling ‘i’m alive.’ seems maybe ben stiller-like, might be going too far. actually, doing month-long ‘stay aliev until i’m dead’ video campaign would be an ideal way to go out, if steve ever decides he wants to die. his videos would contain a new maximum level of urgency (like would be nearly impossible to watch videos without thinking about steve’s closeness to death, which for a lot of people would probably remove one or more degrees of separation between themselves and death, because they feel like they know steve and steve would be knowing death all of a sudden*), probably more documentaries would get made about him so his ideas would have a higher chance of surviving long enough to maybe leave the earth and he could reference this as ‘truley intergalactic universal collective next level (something)’ in video campaign and maybe people would feel slightly more influenced to go into space and we’d start getting there faster, he’d think and probably act zanier and more extreme/unexpected via sleep deprivation, no one has done it before that i know of, his last word could be ‘boost,’ he could always decide not to do it, a lot of people would watch and he might get to be on oprah or at least the ellen show. also something seems interesting about his life-focused thing…getting switched around…envisioning one of those souvenir pens with a plastic slide trapped in water and there’s an air bubble and when you move the pen in any direction the plastic slide can only go one way or the other. like steve can only go ‘life’ or ‘death’ and it might be interesting to see air bubble moving plastic slide thingy between those two. if you read this steve, have been thinking all of this in a positive/supportive way.

*two groups of people were given an essay prompt to write about their overall life satisfaction so far, their senses of identity, goals for their futures, things like that. one group just wrote the essay. the other group was told to realistically consider their deaths and what the world would be like after they were dead for an amount of time before they received the essay prompt. the essays in the death group expressed more humanitarian ideas, selfless/emotional attitudes, stronger convictions about personal beliefs, and used clearer language than the other group (study was researching thing called ‘terror management theory,’ wrote papers about this as psych major, forget a lot about it but seemed really interesting to read about) 

10:50AM: stood behind kitchen counter while mom sat on couch. felt like i was standing behind a fort. we started talking about things at a pace i recognized immediately as signs of entering a dynamic which feels sort of like a ‘lockdown zone.’ think it can only involve two people. a ‘lockdown zone’ is when i feel so interested in what the other person is saying that i don’t even think about what i’m going to say next, i just pick things from a seemingly endless supply of shareable information which is like…it can only be activated with two people, like some kind of pokemon thing. i don’t know much about pokemon. like without another person you’re just one half of the information pokeball. you’re just floating around. you need to talk for the fun part. you charge your pokeball in the lockdown zone. oh my god. i’m saying tony robbins things i think. everything in a lockdown said is in the interest of extending the conversation. there are no feelings of wanting to pay some kind of interpersonal debt. usually things are said at a rate of like, each person talking for 20-150 seconds at a time. seems anxiety-provoking for me to do this for too long sometimes. have also done it for hours without drugs or alcohol and liked it. stop liking it if i can sense the other person is dipping into their 150 second reserves too often, as a means to leverage themselves into ‘complete conversational domination.’ left kitchen after about five minutes today but mom wasn’t trying to dominate, i don’t think.

12:12PM: felt really focused on steve roggenbuck thing for a long time. texted with real estate agent, going to fedex application instead. 24-year-old real estate mogul neighbor. ‘mogul’ is weird. feel like my hands are skeletal and ‘mogul’ right now. the capillaries or something look purple and webby and closest to being on the other side of my skin with the rest of the world. think i’m thinking of ‘gollum.’

 

12:21PM: i almost always have itunes open but almost never have music playing. i listen to music the least out of anyone i know, i think. people seem troubled when they learn this about me. remember driving in a car with tao and telling him that and hearing him say ‘seems…depressing…’ after a few moments.

12:24PM: writing so much in this amount of time is forcing me to think about syntactical choices i make. just wanted excuse to say ‘syntactical’ (just kidding i’d rather say ‘syntax,’ seems harder, love saying ‘that’s just…syntax’ with a befuddled face to people arguing with me who seem way more invested in argument than me, LOVE IT). would like to see documentary about forming sentences. it would focus on ‘word time’ and ‘interview time’ with 15 people. first the crew would film still shots of letters appearing on msword document screens. it would just look like what i’m doing now, what i’m looking at now, words showing up. then the people who wrote the sentences would be interviewed about why they deleted certain things or chose certain words over others. feel like i’m the only person alive who would be interested in this. old woman rickets: happy to music-lessly stare at words appearing on a screen for hours. thought ‘i love old woman rickets’ then imagined the annoying hot girl from ‘girls’ saying ‘i LOOOOOVE old woman rickets’ and turning it into a t-shirt thing or something. she would go global with old woman rickets. take that shit global. that girl has nice teeth. if i were a guy i would want to ‘take her out back.’ like i’d see her across the room and say ‘i’d like to take her out back if you know what i mean’ to the guy next to me. always feel like people are saying things like that and understanding each other. actually i don’t have to be a guy, i could just be a lesbian and do that. or like, me. yeah. i’d like to take her nice teeth out back. sometimes her eyes look like animations from that ‘adults in suits’ cartoon from the 90’s i never watched enough to know what it was about, ‘dr. katz.’

12:39PM: laying under blankets now. can’t believe this is the first time since the sun rose that i’ve done ‘laying down’ or ‘blankets.’ i know why i haven’t done ‘bathtub’ but also, still. 

12:48PM: there is a song by jens lekman that i don’t like but the banging noise has subsided to bumping at a rhythm that is like. hm. i would pay someone to figure out what the song is, maybe. i almost can remember words. it’s on the album with that

12:53PM: the song is ‘a sweet summer’s night on hammer hill.’ listening to it now. sounds so horrible when they say ‘boom-ba-boom.’ eyes watered in this way and felt like i couldn’t continue typing something as embarrassing as the last part of the ‘boom’ rhythm sequence. it out-embarrassed me. i don’t think i’ve ever felt this intensely negative about this song, or felt too embarrassed to finish typing something. i kind of like how awful it feels to listen to it. opened youtube video of it to link and it started to play and i thought ‘double it up hell style.’ maybe i can make the internet so tired of me that…something…more tired of me than i am. i can imagine someone being really annoyed by me on the internet. seems harder to imagine people being annoyed with me in real life. i’m confident about my chill, attentive presence. oh gross. imagine some 18-22 year old guy smiling sexily, taking his shirt off as he scoots himself close to you on your beach towel, you are mostly in the sand and he is taking up most of the beach towel, squinting his eyes and nodding and saying ‘i’m confident about my chill, attentive presence’ at you. 

PEOPLE WHO HAVE SEEMED ANNOYED TO THE POINT OF CONFRONTATION OR NEAR-CONFRONTATION WITH ME IN REAL LIFE:

-ed halliday’s roommate with the moustache

-man who turned around to say ‘shut the fuck up’ in 9^th grade (there are more people like this, i think)

-upperclassmen cast members of ‘the music man’ in 9^th grade

-heather meyers in 5^th grade

-all former boyfriends

-spencer madsen (unsure if he is really annoyed)

-anyone who has lived with me

-anyone who has taken care of me while ‘incapacitated’ more than once

-just like, probably anyone who has ever considered me their friend, i probably act annoying in ways no one has told me about yet. shit. want to know those ways.

interested in reading emails about times i’ve annoyed you, if i really have annoyed you and you’re being serious. i don’t want to know if you don’t like me, i don’t feel interested in interacting with people who don’t like me, there is nothing i can do if you don’t like me. if you like me and i like you and i annoyed you i don’t want to do that and would like to know about it so i can avoid doing it again (themeganboyle@gmail.com).

1:04PM: jens lekman has been playing since other song. this is my ex-boyfriends computer, it has all his music on it. going to try to listen to music. randomly selected ‘i’m your boogie man’ by kc & the sunshine band and fast-forwarded to a middle part where it’s. i can’t describe. you would recognize it, probably. i recognized it. i laughed. oh god. ‘here we go:’

it seems like a club. the lights come on. it’s a club. no one is there yet. after a moment a james brown-like voice says ‘give us this day, our daily[not heard over sounds of immense unseen hydraulic power lowering 100’ diameter disco ball that looks like michael kimball’s smiling head, spinning slowly. when the hydraulics stop making noise ‘i’m your boogie man’ by kc & the sunshine band can be heard faintly, but something went wrong, it was sent to the wrong address and is playing next door instead].’ that’s what the release party for the flash intro to the marketing website would be. i’m crying laughing so hard. i never believe people when they say that. here is a photo proof of tear rolling down right cheek:

had to stop laughing to take picture, will laugh more later. 

1:17PM: i can very easily see people reading this and feeling extremely annoyed with me. or annoyed just for doing this. but people who would like it would really really like it. i have really really liked reading liveblogs of masha (kicking still i think), mira (aborted?), sam cooke (aborted) during this time. want everyone to just be doing this all the time. a future where no one talks and. damnit. i used to picture bleak all-white ‘matrix’-like people-harvesting room but that was the entire earth, and everyone just sat there silently, and that was the future. thought ‘maybe that would be good if everyone was liveblogging’ and i guess there would be worse things that could happen than that but i’m definitely not as excited about it anymore.

1:29PM: i’m not even trying to do anything but just lay here anymore. until further notice i will be laying here. good. the banging seems insane, like definitely directed at me. 

1:31PM: people think multitasking is distracting and it’s not good to get sidetracked but what if that’s actually how our brains want to evolve, like they want to process a larger and less-related variety of information and do this as fast as possible, eventually achieving infinity or something, perceiving infinite things at infinite speed. i don’t think i…seems like i may have not had that thought, but remembered thing tao described in ‘taipei,’ or a lot of parts of it, maybe. or it’s just the technological singularity thing.

1:46PM: approaching 48-hours-awake mark. was about to give a word count just now but then felt overwhelming embarrassed thing similar to when i heard the jens lekman song, like it was equally too horrible to continue but too horrible to be stopped. feel like i’m going to have nothing to say to anyone for like two weeks after this. i love anyone who has made it to this sentence. pictured ricky fitts with bloody nose, saying ‘don’t give up on me, dad’ as a kind of warning or command to kevin spacey who has just punched him, i think. in ‘american beauty.’ that part. then he leaves. woohoo he leaves for new york NYC BABY SPRANG BRAYKE BAYBE 2013 AW YEAH AW NOOOOO DOG AW NOOO. the timing between ‘NOOO.’ and ‘the’ and how my voice would be different in person is like, interesting.

did anyone else feel repulsed by the not-model girl in ‘american beauty’…have always felt guilty for being repulsed by her…so freeing to say this jesus j/k…no don’t feel guilty, she is probably financially secure and people find reasons to like her besides how she looks…i will probably never achieve repulsive ‘american beauty’ levels of stability…(’at this rate anyway, nyuk nyuk nyuk’) (i know her name is thora birch i know she was ‘harriet the spy’ i think, i just wanted to say the other thing that sounded funnier)

2:12PM: here is an ‘other people’ update:

-mom asked if i wanted anything from whole foods. said ‘no thanks’ then ‘chim chim’ really quietly, sort of hoping i was really just repeating ‘no thanks’

-looked at phone and read supportive texts from gian and stephen dierks and felt good and like texts are one of the things influencing me to write more today. 

-last night friend of ‘shower noise requester caller’ texted me something. also shower noise requester sent me a picture but i didn’t say anything back. 

-real estate mogul texted ‘ASAP’ about something around 10AM

-moved car out of driveway so mom could leave. parked in new spot. found apple on my car floor and walked towards apartment, thinking ‘mom will feel good if she sees me eating the apple.’ made plans to take first bite of apple once i saw ‘the whites of mom’s eyes.’ saw that i had left front door wide open but walked inside confidently and nonchalantly, bumping into mom, who i reflexively said ‘night night’ to, then hurriedly bit apple to ‘make up for lost time.’ mom smiled and shook her head a little at me and i laughed and said ‘night night sorry hello goodbye.’

2:50PM: just imagine how good you would feel if you were homeless and you saw this in your inbox and knew there were no strings attached:  

 

(you checked email on public library computer, you signed up for email in 1997) 

damn imagine all of the homeless people who have hotmail accounts. or just, not just hotmail. in the year 4000 all homeless people will have emails but somehow it’s going to be worse.

2:54PM: experiencing light hallucinations and weird depth/size things. the thing i’m mostly seeing seems like it’s everywhere also. it’s sort of weak in that i’m mostly seeing stuff i normally see, but if i focus harder/almost cross my eyes on any area there is this other thing that’s like, spinning fast, seems like a patterned neon turtle shell everywhere that’s spinning very fast, it’s like, underneath everything also. it always has a still center point and a half-sphere thing behind it that seems to be ‘wagging’ and the ‘wags’ become smaller and appear more ‘vibrating’ the further away from the center point i look. the thing seems to be gaining other parts that move faster and are more opaque. feel like it’s intelligent, it’s like, intelligent DMT lifeform that i feel kind of afraid of but is interesting to watch. have seen/experienced similar feeling on DMT. like there is another version of everything i’m seeing like, just underneath the reality i normally experience, like infinite multiple layers of versions of realities that are similar in that they’re also ‘realities’ where there are other conscious things that are conscious in vastly different ways than people, like unknowable to people. i sound like i’m on hallucinogens. feel worried a little, about my brain, like this is maybe what happens before things happen to people’s brains, since this is occurring naturally. i don’t know.

3:17PM: i figured out the turtle shell thing. i’m just crossing my eyes in such a way that i’m viewing the convex area of my eyeball instead of ‘looking at things in front of me.’ you know when you look up from underwater in a pool? or see like, heat rising from the ground? that wavy thing? i think that wavy thing happens on your eyeballs all the time. that’s maybe why it feels ‘everywhere.’ the patterns aren’t just the wavy thing though. 

this must be so boring for anyone not me right now, jesus, imagining same ‘i’m chill and approchable’ beach blanket guy saying all of this shit to me without stopping and i’m just staring in the other direction and i can tell he’s smiling or something. yuck. there are people like that, i’ve talked to them, you might be one of them, you are probably one of them, maybe i am also, shit. how can a person talk continuously at another person staring in the opposite direction, like staring willfully away from you, how could you keep talking then, ever…or like…jesus

i don’t do that unless i’m on a lot of cocaine. feel like most people are…like that’s the main thing that drives them: a desire to find a less-talkative human source for it to smile at and talk endlessly into, like empty itself into, so it can churn and re-form all the things the talking person said into minimal blips of encouraging feedback. seems extremely depressing. it seems like i’m being the talking person now but it’s different because you are choosing to read this and…i can’t sense you being there…or something…i feel like i’m alone and just like, copying/transferring my thoughts onto something with RAM. have felt fully consumed by menial task of copying/transferring since 9AM, maybe. i know i’m not really saying anything and there has been a lot of it but feels good, like some kind of exercise. yeah feels like i’ve been exercising this whole time. if this were my job, like just to write uneditedly like this all day. no one gets paid to do that. if anyone wants to hire me to be their ‘kept woman’ and my job is to write 8500 words like this a day i’ll let you talk at me for as long as you want as long as you don’t require eye contact and i’ll be happy doing all of those things. ideal arrangement. sex if you want it whatever. man i really do have to kind of like you a little bit in order to want to do the sex and lisening…hm. i don’t know. started typing that as a joke but the more i think about it, it would be okay maybe, if interested you know what to do let’s see what happens (themeganboyle@gmail.com). 

6:25PM: mom came back and made a frozen stir-fry thing of general tso’s chicken. it smelled so good. when she said it was ready i didn’t even know what it was. smelled heavenly. the chicken was really square. felt excited, putting ‘only the best’ scoops on my plate. freely discarded parts of scoops or entire scoops that were ‘not as good’ as the others. red bell peppers were not included in any scoops that made it to my plate. mom walked into kitchen and we used probably six accents really fast, like maybe all of the ones i know how to do, in a rapid-fire thing i don’t remember. then it ‘petered out.’ i said ‘i’m from france’ without an accent.

6:38PM: seems like it’s actually going to be hard to fall asleep, like my body feels too weird to sleep. the ‘negatives’/inverse images of silhouettes of things are not moving at the same speed as the rest of my vision. keep thinking about parts of ‘nothing’ by blake butler, wish i had it here still. feel like i could match or beat blake in a ‘no sleeping’ contest, like i could probably do a week. would be good to be on a reality show with him where the object of the game is to stay awake the longest, but the night before the game starts, you are flown to the your opponent’s house and can booby-trap it. then you are flown back to your house. the commercial for the show would have a voiceover that would be like (when it’s capitalized it means it’s an echo): ‘two people TWO TWO TWO. who have met once ONCE ONCE [man yells ‘2011’][man yells ‘the internet’ and sounds like he is falling off a cliff] [no audio or visual for several seconds, then a rumbling, then something emerges in the distance. it is a monster truck driven by an extremely muscular man screaming ‘AT AWP WHEN BLAKE WAS DRUNK’ as the truck roars and jumps over the camera and crashes offscreen] [this is replaced with long, panning shots of a desert at night and desert noises, like desert loons and coyotes. barely audible gregorian chanting can also be heard.] johnny cash’s voice wryly says: ‘what happens when you gotta spend a week in your own house?’ [the desert is replaced with black & white slow-motion footage of a young johnny cash walking offstage.] ‘no-ho-ho rules, my friend. except you snooze? you lose.’ [he is gone. the mic stand remains. a giant can of foster’s beer materializes over the still-cheering crowd. next, the text: ‘foster’s: austrailian for beer.’] [screen is black] [man’s voice from beginning yells ‘sponsored by foster’s’ and it sounds like he is falling off a cliff again].’ so that would be the commercial. want johnny cash to say ‘the man of the house’ at some point. maybe the show is just called ‘the man of the house.’ i don’t know what the booby-trapping…like, am i thinking the booby-traps would be…? so in order to defeat the other person the traps would need to make them fall asleep. how do you do that. boring comfortable booby-trapped house. seems shitty. you have to make them fall asleep without killing them. no wait you can kill them. if you want. you would still get arrested though it would not be ‘hunger games’ style. then after you murder the other person and win it becomes another reality show where you’re running from the cops. or no, it’s just the next season of the first show. then i guess you die too, eventually. there will be a lot of seasons. there would be one season where the winner of the no-sleep thing escapes the cops so many times that they actually convince everyone that they’re the president. then it becomes a government reality show. no, they don’t need to lie, they actually run for president and win. because the cops like them. even though they killed the other person. they’re just really good, loved by all. they are followed by cameras until their groundbreaking record-setting death of old age. it turns out they are the oldest person. they were actually the oldest person the entire time. even in the beginning, before they even knew the show was really about being the oldest, they were still the oldest. they did not back down in the face of adversity. they remained older than everyone the entire time. which is really the message of the show. the lesson to be learned. oh my godfs. ‘mafia credit card,’ remember that. ‘hunger games’ was stupid. it’s 8:19PM.

11:05PM: doing things that aren’t ‘staring’ seem hard. body feels insane. responded to texts from today except not jamie’s yet. thought it was a female jamie i’m afraid of and not nice male jamie who i’m going to make comics with.

THINGS I’M THINKING AND LIKING ABOUT BODY RIGHT NOW:

-have been wearing the same thing since last night (except pants for longer than that). armpits smell like, ‘sweet piquant insect-like tartness of fresh cat pee mixed with carrot juice or grass’ kind of. the shirt has smelled weird since i put it on. love both these smells. the weird shirt smell and my armpits. if i smelled armpits like mine i’d want to lick them. two ex-boyfriends have not used deodorant and had really pungent armpits but i would like, uh. it was good. felt horny when i’d smell the armpits. 

- left hand. jesus. i don’t know how to explain what it was smelling like and i have no idea what i touched but i’ve since touched everything on my body and discerned it’s not me. it smelled so weird. oh well. kind of heroin-y or like. a polymer. i don’t know.

-right hand smelled like garlic for a long time after touching my check book.

-pee is neon yellow and smells sort of like rubber bands from b-vitamins. the smell scared me at first but read up on it and did some experiments. now i just free to be pumped to have weird smelling pee.

-feel like i am ‘floating’ everywhere. head also feels anvil-like. like anvil unstably placed on a carrot (my neck). standing up is this whole wobbly affair. feels funny/good.

-crotch smell wafting up from 3-day-no-take-off jeans smells like brad listi death horse photo but man i don’t know, it’s good man. metallic? this one is just between me and my crotch. ‘crotch’ and ‘horse’ look similar, as words.

-got some scabs/dead skin to pick at.

-man i don’t know. i covered crotch, armpits, hands that are back to normal now. those are the real ‘main nasties.’ feet are under control and no word from breath or ass. breath seems good since flossing. there is this general smell of ‘me’ or smell of ‘my bed’ that i like, seems to be a combination of clean sheets and these things.

-think i’m a very weird-looking person. used to think i was like somewhere like a 7-9 out of 10 on ‘facial attractiveness’ but the more i think about it and see it my face seems like. i don’t know. i like it better thinking it’s weird than attractive.

-not related to body thing: i feel unrestrained when i write this way. i feel like i make less sense/am less focused on being direct all of the time but it’s how i think and it feels good to see it totally, uneditedly.

MARCH 20 2013

12:22AM: bathwater is running. i’m just going ot do this until forever. ate half of some kind of pill, 1mg Xanax ithink. ate other one . just thought ‘willis is just in the other room, he said he watned to show me something.

123331

 

ookkk anoth athter xaanxn at som e oo==ibe, ijay sruffl is going to better e=vetter i know

 

1:12AM: woke in bathtub full of maybe 2 inches water. very cold. drain wouldn’t close so i just sat on it for awhile and refilled tub with hot water. when i woke felt obsessed with finding candy i had been eating but guess i ate it all. flopped around on tub while it filled, trying to always be covered in hot water somehow, thinking ‘sexy seal’ and ‘sprinkle princess’ and pictured someone tossing me a fish and this getting me into the maxim top 100 hottest women or whatever. because enough seals voted me in.

1:18AM: emotional-seeming gchats i haven’t responded to from ex-boyfriend. don’t want to talk to him while i’m on drugs in any way or sleep-deprived.

1:23AM: pictured emerging rapper, he’s like, only been in videos hanging out before but he just got this line in this song…he’s really short guy with giant shiny thing on…i don’t know what, maybe a suit or maybe a special kind of lakers jersey, and his mouth has so much grill it that it weighs his neck down a little but he still tries to keep his face up so people call him ‘sunnyside.’ he’s like, sitting at one of those sweet ass round leather sofas in a dark club with decanters on the table which is also a platform/light thing where sexy women’s legs in pumps are walking around and then beat drops and camera focuses on ‘sunnyside’ and he says ‘luhdda see em fart bubbles plip plop in the hot tub.’

1:27AM: think i’m thinking of that song where the one ying yang twin is like ‘i’d rather see yo ass clap clap in them shoes’

1:35AM: earlier tonight i was listening to r. stevie moore thinking it was stevie wonder for a long time and feeling like something wasn’t right. listening to r. stevie moore now. he looks old. his words are funny and i like the music and funny things and variety. haven’t listened to the words that much. he seems associated with ariel pink or something, who i feel weird about, but also sort of like. seems like ‘banshee music.’ like after banshees do their screaming they are r. stevie moore and ariel pink.

also right before the bath i was laying in mom’s bed while she watched ‘downton abbey’ and tried to explain it to me and it seemed like the most impossible thing to pay attention to and she seemed to think that too but also would interject with ‘oh i know who that guy is’ things. she said ‘it’s the only thing on TV, it’ll make you fall asleep.’ i ate baba ganoush and these rice cakes and think i was annoying and interruptive and eventually slid off the bed. like, laughing, feet-first, it happened a little then i ran with it. i said ‘beddy bye. 

3:37AM: still in bathtub. exfoliating skin with nails, there is a lot of dead me in here. re-filling sugar-free red bull thingy with cold water. fantasizing about living in some tropical town where you get drinking water in cans every morning. water in cans. seems so good. the way the air would smell.

3:39AM: i feel afraid of sleeping, i think. i don’t feel tired at all. like i don’t want to sleep unless i go to sleep at 11PM but i keep missing my ‘11PM train.’ like now i might as well…i don’t know. keep thinking ‘i could be sleeping or i could just be doing bullshit fun shit or reading or writing or anything else but sleeping right now.’ sleeping feels good. it sucks that you can only sort of re-play dreams but you can never re-play sleep. er. meditation, kind of. not really. you know what i mean.

interesting thing: around midnight i felt sudden dawning horror that the ‘turtle shell’/wavy heat rising effect/cross-eyed focus on convex part of the eyeball—like the pattern that was really moving were all of these disgusting boomberang shapes, it was so crowded, they were taking up everything and moving in a sickly maggot way. and. AND! you know what they were? i think? i think they were my rods and cones. i think. i don’t know if you can see those. oh my god though thinking about seeing them my stomach feels…like it’s about to receive romantic rejection and there is nothing it can do…so horrible-looking. i experience this thing ‘tryptophobia’ (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trypophobia) which is like this dizzying sickness at seeing small holes close together. but then found out rods and cones aren’t on your cornea, they’re like, back near the optic nerve or something, so maybe i was seeing some kind of inverse image of…i don’t know. if anyone knows about this stuff i’m curious about it.

4:15PM: ‘liked’ a lot of mallory whitten’s photos from young americans tour facebook album. felt hard-to-identify positive emotions about seeing stuff . everyone keeps looking different. emotions. keep draining amounts of water then refilling tub with hot water and scrubbing tub with yellow sponge and dr. bronner’s soap before it fills up and the sides look clean again. keep pulling off skin. the skin is grey and floating around and won’t leave all the way. i don’t feel gross or anything, sitting with it. i was sitting with it before i was in the tub too. have never felt that ‘sitting in your own filth’ aversion people have to baths. you were just…you’re always going to be doing that…baths…i don’t know, rinse off afterwards. man the fuck up.

ate another xanax to make me tired again. listening to buddy holly. want to like buddy holly. i’m going to try to listen to more music, i used to be like, a music person. listener and seeker of new music. 2003-2008. hell yeah. ex-boyfriend has eclectic selection. have been scrolling through it, usually like songs that he has not full albums of the bands. like, individual songs. he has a lot of butthole surfers. listening to ‘pepper.’ if you are person who knows ‘pepper’ by butthole surfers and knows that primitive radio gods song with the long title and knows that bran van 3000 song ‘drinking in l.a.’ and knows that placebo song that people think is ‘pepper’ by butthole surfers but is like ‘a friend in need is a friend who bleeds…’ i will feel feel like ‘teehee we have secrets’ and always feel a warm thing about you and talk about you to people when i don’t know you anymore. like, ‘yeah we both knew all of those songs’ and i’ll miss you deeply but i won’t know what to say to you anymore. it won’t make any sense. just pictured overhearing some conversation at a bar where the guy is like ‘u2? fucking bono!? fucking brilliant’ and talks for a long time about all the u2 shows he’s been to. would be funny if i was shitting in the tub this entire time, writing these song titles. looking so serious.

4:50AM: this soap just seems so versatile…making this tub really clean, making me clean…soft skin…years…dr.bronner’s. feel extremely effected by Xanax all of a suddn. 61 hours no sleep. actually slept for like a half an hour. gonna not do liveblog things for…until tomorrow.

5:06AM: no i just fell asleep letting hot water pour on my head. i woke thinking i was surrounded by ambulances on a highway but that i was not part of the accident, i was just looking at it. put towel on my head. no, i put a towel no my haed. no just tyed it up. the water is hot again.

5:20AM: copied all of this text and opened flickr but there was no where to paste it.

5:21AM: imovie is opening again. 

5:23AM: just realized wolf voices, coming from the ktchen in Philadelphia na seeing ex-bourfreidn there at kitchen table, sat next to him ‘there is something wrote with your imovie, it’s only playing wolf things.’ then like, flashing in and out of being in a bathtub, a really alert/aware state where i’m thinking ‘write that dream or whatever down, what is going on’ but think i am forgetting crucial parts. except for nap from 12:30-1 or whenever. so since. work 3:15PM 3/17 and now it’s 5:15AM march 20^th.

just slid ti catch something from falling into the water. it was like, one of  those things parents have , a sony…you like watch slideshows of difital images on its frme.

5:18 (???)AM: now it says 5:18. i want food more. need to wash conditioner out ooooohok. i think there is a nother eperson in here with me. i can feel them. like it’s Jordan or something. damnit. i’m feeling eyeball things. optic things. imovie closed but i don’t know why opened it. okay.  

5:26AM: feel like i am supposed to tel my parents somethingn soon, like my mom wanted me to reminder her something to r. stevie moore is like wesley willis to me in some way. i am forgetting something about why typing this now. i thikn it was to get ou tof the tub. seems  hard. feel like there are bandmates here. i am not quite awake. let water out of tub. damn. water in cans. feel so good abou water in cans, my water in a can. wish cans had tops you could put ack on. take them on the go. there is an ear what is this shit:

5:32AM: uploading…doing all of this stuff is so. the water is all out of the tub and conditioner is still on my hair. i feel soft. earlier i looked down at my abdomen and vag and pictured a for real person in there, like growing, felt excited, someday!!! get to…yeah…jesus, if you ever feel sad just think about how you can always do this crazy thing to your body and know someone all your life or theirs, rather. can’t talking about it well. want to make breakfast for my kids like michelle illiams in blue valentine only i’d LOVE MY KIDS and play with them because they do say the darndest things, truly, i feel. i’m just one of them too. we gon have fun. shit man. get ready for my baby squad. gonna reshape the game man. or like. what i mean to say is it will be different. ir. what the hell am i talking about

6:33PM: there is this good feeling you have when you’re younger, like a teenager to maybe 25 years old, that the world is ready for the possibility you have to offer it. there are schools giving you tours, little meetings happening with adults, loans from already-adults who are investing in what they think you will bring to the world. people are depending on you, sort of. watchfully but passively depending that the good thing they thought would happen to them will happen to you instead. 

you have all of these ideas about what you want to do with ‘your life,’ which is hard to imagine because it seems so far away. it feels like you can do anything. maybe you do too many drugs or have bad relationships or get in trouble with…i don’t know, money or police. i don’t know. so you think ‘there is still time, i will take a break. after the break the bad thing will feel over. people will have forgotten and maybe i will have learned or changed or forgotten. then i’ll get back to all of those other exciting things.’ there is so much time.

but the break thing. 

i don’t know.

you end up 27 waking at 4PM feeling like some kind of experiment. like you have switched from the thing you used to be to a new thing that’s being studied. but you don’t feel important enough to be studied, no one is actually studied you. you have just allowed yourself so many ‘breaks’ after so many ‘bad things’ happen to you that you feel the best thing is to isolate yourself from both the breaks and the possibility of more bad things, and sort of hope no one knows this, or. people wonder where you went, you think, but you hope no one is really paying attention, and they aren’t really. 

the ‘experiment’ thing is more like this sensation that the people who talk to you feel like they need to be careful around you. they are aware of the things you thought you would be. they want to be careful not to remind you of those things, or pretend you are still capable of those things. you can see when they are being kind to you, just in little ways, like you are way more aware of when anyone is kind to you accidentally, and it fills you with thing, this sadness for yourself and for person who did the kind thing and for everyone who wants a better life. you don’t actually feel the ‘everyone’ but you have this idea that it’s probably everyone, and the feeling…the wanting feeling after the accidental kind thing…the feeling is big enough in your body that you feel confident saying things like ‘everyone.’ 

 7:14PM: i don’t really know what i mean by all of that. i’m a little bitch. here is what happened since bathtub xanax thing last night:

-dried off and put on pajamas

-took keepsake photo of myself trying to widen eyes to showcase extent of their redness while uncontrollably displaying picture-conscious expression:

-ate another 1mg xanax (so 2.5 or 3.5 total, i think)

-toasted an ‘everything’ bagel and spread chive cream cheese

-ate one half of bagel in bed, looking at internet, probably fell asleep ~6AM

-woke 12PM to text from real estate agent asking me i had fed-exed the thing (seems suddenly time-sensitive since not going to nyc or something) and texted ‘i’m on my way, will do fastest shipping option’

-found uneaten half of bagel with cream cheese and ate it

-ate 3-4 small ‘sugar-free sprouted cookies’ my mom bought and glass of ‘raw/unpasteurized’ milk

-set alarm for 3PM with plans to wake and write my cover letter and go to fedex

-dreamed something about being an orphan child (like we were really 6 or 7) with sam pink and living in a cement room where we collected things we stole and…seemed to ‘party’…it was fun…the room we lived in was in one of those horseshoe-shaped two-story buildings with a courtyard that you see in florida a lot

-woke 4PM to text from agent that said ‘ok good’

-ate another sprouted cookie thing and felt xanax things like i wanted to eat a lot

-ate half an apple and handful raw sugar snap peas

-mom made me a tuna melt and we stood talking in the kitchen

-told mom about hallucinations and how i thought they were eyeball-related

-talked with mom and ate tuna melt at dining room table while mom sat on couch

-drank a glass of ‘hot lips no sugar added pear soda’ over ice

-looked at things on internet, re-read parts of this, read emails, re-read jamie text, read texts from old manager keith and mira, feels hard for me to talk to people right now which is why i haven’t talked/responded to you (if i haven’t), i have plans to respond to everyone at some point

-started to read this (http://muumuuhouse.com/tl.poetry.html), felt emotional at poems

-looked at gchats i haven’t responded to from ex-boyfriend and re-read this thing a little

-wrote 6:46PM thing

-wanted another ‘hot lips no sugar added pear soda’ and drank melted ice, then thought ‘flavorless but cold is enough’ and got glass of ice water

-asked mom what she planned to do tonight and she said she would watch ‘downton abbey’ again. i said ‘i thought you thought it was boring’ and she sounded like george costanza a little in her response, saying something like ‘well, the characters…you get to watching and…i don’t know. it’s really a little interesting!’

-told mom ‘i might go to yoga or something…my body…i’m barely moving’ and she said something consoling i wish she hadn’t said, i didn’t feel like i was saying that to garner consolation/sympathy

-walked back to room feeling hellish about seeing the same things for so many days in a row

-tried to imagine what i could do today (article, cover letter, exercise, mail things), seems already harder to do because i’ve eaten tuna melt and bagel earlier, feel lethargic and like i didn’t sleep enough 

considering doing more heroin to at least improve mood, might feel like exercising lightly or taking a walk if i do that. out of adderall.

**I CURRENTLY HAVE OVER 80 1MG TABLETS OF XANAX, IF ANYONE WANTS TO TRADE FOR ADDERALL/VYVANNSE/CONCERTA EMAIL THEMEGANBOYLE@GMAIL.COM**

feel like i should feel like i have a drug problem or am ‘addicted’ but i don’t feel either of those things…or like, if i ever did feel those things, i would just stop using drugs. i don’t know. feel dissonance about all of this re ex-boyfriend’s and my arguments about drugs and thinking about how it would be fun to go to rehab and liking that jordan did that and curious about not doing any drugs.

7:40PM: laying under blankets and propped on pillows. want to drive to washington d.c. to see some movie alone or something. i might do that. yeah. getting excited thinking about that. walking around washington d.c. tonight by myself. the drive to d.c. is nice. the george washington parkway is really pretty but it will be night time. excited to drive on it this spring/summer or relive idyllic times of 2007 by walking in one of the parks over there. to fully relive idyllic-ness i would require another person who i could make jokes with and have sex with and be in love with like i was with the person in 2007. man i am kind of tired of that whole. ‘we get excited about each other and…’ i don’t know. have felt so hopeful so many times. old woman rickets over here. 

10:50PM: have just been reading things on the internet and listening to youtube playlist of songs that make me feel emotional. ‘last days of disco’ by yo la tengo is playing. finally responded to all the things ex-boyfriend had g-chatted me about. our lease expires in 11 days. he showed me this song. last night on gchat he said:

‘honeychile

ive been pronouncing the ultimate E as a long E

member when we walked over that bridge’

the walking over the bridge day was really good. the bridge leads to atlantic city, i think, which we went to that night. we started dating in november 2011, moved in together in april 2012, broke up in august 2012, didn’t have regular or friendly conversations until october 2012, walked on the bridge november 2012. here is a thing i wrote in my iphone notes about the bridge day the morning after the bridge day:

Light moving through windows seemed fast, flickery/sparkly, z’s face smiling, the thing I said to Tao one time: peoples faces when they’re sleeping or just waking are always honest

Remembering walking over bridge and how beautiful and wide and low to the ground sky was, wanting to hold onto that memory and in that memory how much I wanted to hold onto Zac, all yesterday feeling his presence as a kind of absence that must be urgently protected, like when I know I’m dreaming all of a sudden and the dream becomes about how to stop myself from waking, simultaneously touching and missing him, how easy it was to talk until the drive home from AC, it was almost perfect, then things we’ve done to hurt each other seemed louder and more present than the music, scenery, my hand on his thigh, etc.

Watching shadows of branches making the light move fast and smelling how he smells, thinking “none of this will stay,” watching his eyeballs move under his eyelids while he slept like they were looking at fast moving things too, finding spaces in his body for my body to fit even though it was uncomfortably sweaty, now im gone in a car with nothing to hold onto

Now merging onto 95n, a feeling of ghostly temporary deafness/blindness in right side of face, like in a parallel universe right now I’m having a stroke

11:08PM: snorted a little more than half the amount of heroin from the loose powder quadrant in my pill container thingy from tao. the other night when i snorted it i had preemptively divvied out the amount i’d want ‘for next time’ in a friendly gesture to ‘future me who doesn’t want to find surface to do drugs on or think about how much she wants to do.’ laid down and closed eyes.

just saw mental picture of sitting in my car behind a pick-up truck with an american flack decal that took up the entire back window, on left side shoulder of highway, police lights, i was in the cop car

pental picture of four of my driver’s licenses falling out of a white paper that had been folded in half

mental picture of the itunes visualizer as just a black spinning oval over a slightly less black background

what if the itunes visualizer was

mental picture of…damn…no way to describe, it wase

mental picture of something about…like…jeusu. forgetting things so fast. 

11:38PM: it took 30 minutes to type from ‘just saw…’ to ’11:38PM.’ leaving typos to show struggle. keep doing stereotypical ‘head drops slowly towards stomach/ground then jerks up’ thing like that sleepy kitten viral video on youtube, like the first kitten viral video thing. annoyed by difficulty to focus eyes and urge to lay motionless. enjoyed laying down and watching all of the image thingies. probably saw/imagined 20-25 things total. some of them seemed really detailed the way dreams are, like, entire rooms and life contexts/sets of memories. 

11:42PM: got ice water and 4 chocolate covered cherry and orange thingies. sat at desk to discourage laying down. somehow thought heroin would make me feel less sedentary. 

11:50PM: mom entered room talking fast and almost affectedly cheerfully about how she was going to be a person on ‘downton abbey’ from now on. above picture of drug container was in her view. panicked and forgot about how to minimize things but didn’t want to draw attention to computer. also knew my eyes probably would look differenti wouldn’t be able to focus my eyes if i looked at mom and my eyes would look weird. she was still talking. clutched computer to my body and turned so computer’s back faced mom. mom said ‘are you crying?’ i said ‘no.’ she said ‘i came in here because your face looked like it was crying.’ i said ‘i’m not’ and she said more things about the show and what she thought i looked like and i looked for other things to look at and concentrated on discreetly holding the computer. seemed like it would never end. 

11:57PM: can feel pulse in my heels, arms, face. it’s not beating at the same time in all places, all of them are slightly different speeds. seems crazy to think about which speed is faster than another one because that would like…involve…that they all started at a time…i guess i did technically have ‘one first beat of pulse’ but…

MARCH 21 2013

12:16PM: feel herion effects less. forgot about unfocusable eyes thing. wanted to drive to d.c. will still do that, i think. or no. i don’t know. nothing at all today.

12:30AM: intense urge to be on a couch, like one of those really ugly, brown, deep couches that have holes patched with duct tape and an afghan draping on it , that don’t look like they come from any specific time period…like the couch from ‘roseanne!’ yeah, exactly the ‘roseanne’ couch. making out with sam pink and one of his hands would be on my jawline. the couch. fuck yeah. canned water. damn. pictured being his female cat who he never got spayed and him putting a q-tip up to me and me backing into it. maybe a little vaseline on the tip of the q-tip. seems ‘risky’ putting this out there but fuck it. 

12:38AM: a good alternative to the ‘house arrest ankle band’ would be that you have to accidentally overhear someone saying ‘the wimbledon bounty.’ you would have to wear a similar device as the ankle band but you could leave your house. there would be a camera on the ankle device and it would be able to sense whenever you started thinking of ways to ask people/steer conversations towards ‘the wimbledon bounty.’ every time that happened the device would make your death row sentence 5 minutes earlier.

12:49AM: have probably chewed 40-55 ice cubes since 9PM. ate a tangerine and pringles ‘light’ dipped in baba ganoush. have been wanting to eat a lot today. think most people would not consider the amount of food i’ve eaten today ‘a lot.’

1:49AM: put baba ganoush on a pringle and walked into mom’s room. she was watching ‘downton abbey.’ said ‘close your eyes’ to mom and fed it to her and she made noises of non-sexual pleasure. 

2:04AM: last night a person offered me $100 for a printed, signed manuscript of this liveblog but i haven’t responded yet. around 30 minutes ago he upped the offer to $125. in his email he gave suggestions for easier-to-read pink colors and said he wanted me to eat and sleep more. he seems nice. including this because i’m pumped as hell that someone would offer me that kind of money for this and now he will be in the manuscript i send him.  

3:06AM: listening to a balam acab playlist. since i’ve been intentionally listening to music more i feel a little better. sudden memory of showering with ‘wash ‘n’ curl’ pink square shampoo bottle after swim practice at the ymca when i was little. i think i’ve just been doing things to the layout of this, this entire time. made earl grey tea. a person named ‘earl grey’ used to come into the café where i worked. sometimes his dad would be with him. the first time i served him i asked him if that was his real name and he seemed on the offended side of confused. then i think i showed him the earl grey tea we sold, but i think he maybe thought it was some kind of boutique tea, made in really small runs or something. he nodded tolerantly at the tea box and me and was like, ‘ahhh, i see.’

4:05AM: sitting cross-legged on bed. my eyes feel the heroin-y hard-to-focus thing still. or else very tired. i don’t know. changed layout and enabled comments. seems impossible that it’s 4:08AM. just laid back in bed and ‘spanked’ my crotch rapidly, like 3 measures of 32^nd notes. 

4:39AM: turned out all lights in room and laid with computer on stomach. thought i saw man in blue shirt and khaki pants ‘glide’ towards center of room and disappear extremely fast and 

4:42AM: closed eyes for a moment sounded like female commercial voice say ‘duracell advanced heat.’

4:48AM: saw gliding khaki man do the thing again. whispered ‘get the fuck out’ and turned on light next to bed. what is actually scary about a gliding khaki man. like if i saw a man in khakis gliding by radio shack it would be good. 

4:51AM: thought i heard man’s voice on phone (like how the other person sounds on the phone when you’re on the receiving end) say ‘horse.’ when i’m extremely tired i sometimes hear voices in my head, i made a twitter about it this summer, curious if other people experience this. 

6:24AM: sitting outside on balcony reading what i wrote tonight and smoking a cigarette. there is a noise like feet moving tentatively in the woods 20’-30’ away from me. can’t see anything there. just made forceful ‘FFFF’ sound and the feet noise stopped abruptly then sounded like it was backing up really fast. then it resumed normal walking pace. i went ‘FFFFFF’ louder but nothing changed about the feet noise that time.

6:54AM: smoked another cigarette and went inside. feel nauseated. keep hiccuping and feeling burning stomach thing. earlier before i was seeing/hearing weird ftuff i listened to ‘getting by with its’ by reggie and the full effect and remembered senior year of high school and ate two ‘weight watcchers english toffee’ popsicle-like ice cream bars. typed  everything from ‘weight watchers’ to end of sentence with eyes closed. eues are closed now. saw imafe of a man’s forearm with blonde hair moving like it was doing ‘poi’ without lightsticks. eyes are closed. peeked a little to write ‘poi’ but they are closed now. so sleepy. going to sleep. eyes are stil closed. not going to edit. 26,539 words.

6:11PM: dreamed i was at a steakhouse/movie theater with ex-boyfriend and a group of guys i knew in high school. it was in philadelphia. i didn’t want to be at the steakhouse. i was like, ‘actively making a compromise’ so we could sit and eat at the steakhouse when i really wanted pizza from this…it’s one of those places with only two tables and a counter and plastic letters falling off its menu, which is somehow like, 3 backlit panels long but only says ‘sm med lar x-lar’ and ‘shrimp (not pizza)’ and on the bottom of the panels there’s a really old pepsi decal or something. you know. so i wanted pizza from there. it was taking too long at the steakhouse so i walked over and got a small slice. they brought it to my table really fast. it was about as big as my hand and had marshmallow-sized lumps under it, really thick dough. the lumps were like ‘extra sauce packet delights.’ the guys behind the counter were speaking another language and laughing and joking around and pushing each other. they were all eating huge slices. sometimes one of them would say how much they loved the pizza, in english, and everyone would laugh and hit each other. brotherly hitting. i wanted a bigger slice. ex-boyfriend came in and got me and took me back to the steakhouse/movie theater, where everyone had finished their food and had eaten my food and had moved to a smaller booth. i went to the big booth where we used to sit and made a plate of food from everyone’s uneaten food and walked back to the booth ‘boastfully’ and everyone was like ‘damn i want that food’ and i was like ‘you coulda had that food.’ then i was standing by ex-boyfriend by a ticket booth kiosk machine. there was a life-sized cardboard poster of daniel stern pulling his shirt up to show his nipples. he was making a ‘look ma, i’m nasty’ face. i said ‘we should see the new daniel stern movie, it looks funny.’ ex-boyfriend said ‘you like him?’ i said ‘i don’t know, isn’t he like [tried to think of some funny independent movie person…like…mumblecore person, maybe] that person we like?’ he said ‘i don’t like him.’ i’m tired of typing this dream. the dream ended with me going to rehab. i woke thinking ‘shit, but i don’t really want to stop just quite yet.’ think i saw mom’s face over my bed and felt her hand touching my head. i thought ‘it must be morning still, it hasn’t been long.’ opened my eyes again and mom was gone. looked for my phone. it made the ‘not enough battery to work’ graphic when i tried to turn it on. looked at computer, which i had slept next to but had not fallen off the bed. screen said ‘6:00PM.’ computer started to fall off the bed but i caught it by slapping my hand really hard on the keyboard. thought ‘nice cliff save.’

6:11PM: poured glass of milk i’ve been drinking and ate 3 more of the cookies i’ve been eating and talked to mom while she unloaded whole foods things. she expressed worry about hearing me on the balcony this morning and sleeping so late. i said ‘i’m sorry, i’m okay, don’t worry.’ she unloaded a cardboard cylinder that said ‘plum amazings’ and said ‘doesn’t this look good?’ i said ‘oh yeah i almost bought you that one time when i couldn’t find raisins. plum amazins. amazings.’ mom said something about how she bought a big corned beef to cook for my dad because she felt bad about forgetting st. patrick’s day. walked back into bedroom to check to see if it was too late for me to fedex real estate package. heard mom say ‘i keep thinking, in andrea boccelli’s voice, ‘bonna fortuna!’’ and laugh. screen was taking a long time to load. typed dream.

6:15PM: mom said ‘want to try something really nummy?’ felt irritated and walked into kitchen. the fridge door was open and there were condiments on the floor. the fridge door is very disorganized and things fall out. mom was on her hands and knees, looking for something. an opened circular mint green bottle was on the table. mom said ‘have you ever had this stuff that’s not—it’s not the green thing—it’s wasabi something? it’s not wasabi. oh jeez, because they were giving it out on shrimp and AH!’ she held an almost empty bottle that said ‘dijon wasabi marinade,’ i think. i said ‘oh you already had it?’ she said ‘yeah but wait’ll you see what—oh boy. i want to see if you’ll like this.’ she took a plastic thing of shrimp laying in a circle around a cocktail sauce out of the freezer. i said ‘you got shrimpies!’ she said ‘shrimpies shrimpies! i wanted to make them nice and cold.’ i said ‘oh they’re not all the way frozen?’ she said ‘no, no, i was just trying to make them nice and cold.’ she looked for something in the cabinet and said ‘yeah! but, and now—i want to see if you’ll like it without cocktail sauce. with this stuff, instead. they were giving it out in this way. it was just heavenly, to me. now where is this, i had a dish?’ i tried the shrimp in the mustard. it was really good. mom ate a shrimp too. i said ‘oh no, it’s so good’ and peeled the tail off my shrimp. mom threw her shrimp tail with meat in it into the sink. i said ‘mom, the shrimpy tail! you know what you have to do!’ she said ‘oh, am i wasting the tail? i have to eat it without peeling?’ (my dad and i used to eat unpeeled shrimp when i was little to gross my mom) i said ‘no you can peel. or. no, i will. you can’t waste the shrimpy’ then felt weird about…i was being serious, to some extent, i felt weird about the seriousness…i said ‘no don’t peel it, you can throw it out, i don’t care.’ she said ‘no, i’ll peel it for you. i won’t waste the shrimpy.’ then we talked about when i went to taiwan with tao and we ate at hot pot restaurants with his parents. pictured his dad holding a whole, giant, 8” long uncooked shrimp, like how you hold a pencil when you do ‘the rubber pencil trick,’ like barely shaking it to give it the illusion of hovering up and down a little, and saying ‘you see? it’s good.’

6:34PM: mom stood in my door and said she was going to watch all of the ‘downton abbey’ she had missed. i said ‘ohhh’ and nodded my head conspiratorially. she sort of guiltily talked about how there were ‘hours’ she had missed. i said ‘well i think you’ll have fun’ or something like that and she walked away grinning guiltily.

6:40PM: looked at twitter and other things. remembered i was supposed to look up when fedex closed. figured it was too late and gave up. will just do it tomorrow. feel extremely…like this is slipping away from me. i don’t care if i move in april 1, it shouldn’t matter. it’s okay. no wait, yeah. it’s okay. i’ll still pay all of april. they should be faster, also. it shouldn’t take them a week to look at an application if no one else if applying for it (agent said no one else was, he said this several times). goddamnit. world is dysfunctional and i am part of that dysfunction. integral shitty isolated dysfunctional cog in the workings of the giant barely functional rube goldberg machine that is the earth. good thing i’m here…i mean…jesus.

6:45PM: went to the kitchen to get more coffee. heard ‘downton abbey’ sounds. i said ‘i hate how it’s not downtown abbey. i hate it.’ mom said ‘you’re not british.’

7:25PM: produced two long thin turds. looked at them while wiping. thought ‘why hello mr. green, we meet again.’ flushed toilet. felt james bond-like.  

7:48PM: i’ve been listening to this on repeat. think it’s one of my most-played. ex-boyfriend showed it to me. it sounds like shirley, his cat, like she’s singing it. also playing all the instruments. sounds so much like shirley. i ‘go to pieces’ when i imagine shirley singing this, like. it’s too cute to be real. ‘cute’ isn’t the right word. it’s just too…i don’t know. something about how the person in this band is singing is like, exactly like shirley’s tone when she meows, extremely similar. extremely similar. pretend it’s not a person singing words, pretend it’s a fluffy little shirley cat, letting you pet her really hard, making noises like ‘huh, okay, i don’t know what’s going on, please continue.’ it makes more sense. shirley has grey long hair (like alvie, my cat) but the fur on her legs puffs out. i call her leg fur her ‘pantalons’ or sometimes her ‘culottes.’ they are so good. you have to say ‘panta-lonz’ when you call them her ‘pantalons.’ her little face. jesus. i’m ‘going to pieces’ right now. hope ex-boyfriend lets me keep shirley when i move, i love shirley more than he does, i feel:

some of shirley’s greatest hits:

‘clowning around’

‘near diet root beer bottle’

‘pantalons in action’

8:00PM: mom peeked head through door and said ‘am i being too loud?’ i said ‘no, you’re fine, everything’s okay.’ she said ‘because i can move into my bedroom, i don’t have to be in the living room.’ i said ‘no it’s really okay, i just closed the door for. i don’t know why. everything’s okay.’ she said ‘okay, well, okay. you know what would make me stop watching ‘downton abbey?’ is if you wanted to watch ‘les miserables’ with me.’ i have been afraid of watching emotionally-faced poor french people sing (which seems so weird to me, in general: watching people sing…people singing, in general…why are they singing…sustaining talking-notes at different unnatural pitches…but now, poverty…french…thought ‘and ann beattie, crying horrifically’ but meant ‘ann hathaway’). going to do it, though. going to watch it. being complete shithead today. not going to even pretend to do anything but be a complete unproductive shithead. if i embrace it maybe it will go away. when i like things they go away.

9:15PM: i’ve been gleefully re-reading this, laughing at parts. jogged into kitchen to take kettle off stove for tea. said ‘spot of tea, hehehehehe, oh no mom, my ass is so bouncy.’ she made a noise. heard ‘downton abbey noises.’  i said ‘i’m going to be healthy tomorrow. i’m going to go to yoga and do the real estate thing and mail things. do you want tea a too?’ she said ‘it’s a very sad moment right now. they’re about. to…’ i said ‘oh no, sorry, i’ll. good’ and walked in here with tea. eating baba ganoush on rice cake thingies. now you will know what it looks like:

(purposefully picked worst pic of me of ‘the session,’ seems hilarious that i can look like that…what is my face doing…seems hilarious…)

9:23PM: checked email. read sam cooke comment, the inaugural liveblog comment, felt good. SUP SAM COOKE. sam cooke is his real name. he seems to be a polarizing figure among people. more people i like make a point to tell me they dislike sam than any other person i have known and liked. seems mystifying to me, how so many people don’t like sam. i am not ‘unearthing’ anything by saying that, sam knows he is polarizing. we all know, we all talk about it. here it is now, out in the open, public domain: people usually either strongly like or strongly dislike sam cooke. also women seem to like him more than men. one night on a lot of cocaine i figured out why men don’t like sam. sam is easy to talk to and down to do anything, i feel, which are like, the most important things i think about when i’m thinking ‘can i be friends with this person.’ fuck haters of sam. always think ‘that’s not his real name,’ i think because i know ‘sam pink’ is not sam pink’s real name, and sam cooke is the name of a famous dead singer of oldies.

9:32PM: responded to masha email about xanax/addy trade exchange rates. bought this (http://www.healthsupplementwholesalers.com/products/noopept) which she recommended. i feel ‘soothed’ or something when i think about ‘noo’ as a prefix. soothing prefix. remember learning about brain chemicals in some psych class and there was…noo something…loved listening to teacher say ‘noo[something].’

9:58PM: overheard mom talking about my sister to my dad on the phone. my sister lives in florida. she is ‘half-sister’ technically. when i think ‘crissy’ it’s like in ‘dune messiah’ when paul tries to see his future after his children are born but there’s nothing. i think. i think there are other times when he tries to see something and can’t see it, also. paul can see everything, all possible futures, because his mom drank the ‘water of life’ while she was pregnant with him. she wasn’t supposed to do that. but then he became the…fuck. what was it called. the kwizatz haderach (sp?). OH MY GOD. m’uad dib. the one to save them all. the kangaroo mouse…desert rat…thing…the name of the second moon on arrakis, his planet…that they move to…that’s why he picked ‘m’uad dib’ as his name, the fremen word for ‘kangaroo mouse.’ i’m remembering things. jesus, i miss reading all the ‘dune’s. ‘dune’ is so good. seems like…the best thing…best thing…i didn’t even finish the last two…best thing, though. when you read ‘dune’ you start thinking weird words like they are normal. it is really good. 

10:04PM: mom said something about watching ‘les miserables’ and i said ‘in a half hour?’ and she said ‘yeah but knowing you, it probably won’t be a half an hour.’ thought ‘perceptive, mom.’ she is right. no i’m going to prove her wrong. i’m excluding a ‘totally fascinating, integral’ conversation about pizza, just to prove mom wrong. i will watch the movie on time. hope you’re happy, mom. you are depriving all 4 people who are still reading this far of hearing all of those hilarious things we said about pizza.

10:23PM: seems like i’m getting carried away with this. also kind of excited to just do this forever, seems original…just write down everything i’m doing/thinking forever…will get annoying and hard to do when i see people more regularly again, if that happens, maybe. 

10:31PM: walked into kitchen, looking for a thing to eat. mom used a british accent to say ‘there’s always downton, we always must think of downton, it’s all we have.’ i said ‘oh my god. you’re so right.’ stopped what we were doing and looked at each other and laughed. i said ‘it’s all we have.’

10:33PM: ate 1mg xanax. handled pear that had been cut into. said ‘are you going to eat this pear?’ in a weird voice to mom. she said ‘well i think we should watch it in the bedroom, because of the HD.’ i said ‘no, i said can i have this pear? are you done eating it?’

10:35PM: tried to update but it got deleted. had added…i said different things about sam, less ‘pointy’ about his haters, i think, but don’t feel like re-writing. seemed definitely less specific, the haters i was referencing, in edited version. **UPDATE** it updated it after all, re-implementing 2nd sam thing, what you just read is the second one, no one will know the first. HAHAHAHAH!!!!! jesus. tumblr seems to be having a hard time managing a large amount of text over and over again. just thought ‘understandably, understandably.’

10:39PM: sitting in mom’s bed next to mom. a man on TV in a butler outfit said ‘i want to please lady mary’ and moved his hands away from him and back several times, palms facing upward, like they were holding invisible melons.

10:41PM: mom said ‘we must always talk like this. OOOOH’ in british accent. i said ‘BLOOOOOR’ in…britishly, i think. she said ‘BLOOOR.’ man just said ‘before the war i believe my life had value. i would like to feel that way again, i suppose.’ 

10:42PM: started laughing really hard while typing ‘BLOOOR.’ mom said ‘don’t laugh, they’ve been in love for twenty years’ about people on TV.

11:02PM: ‘les miserables’ doesn’t seem to be available on ‘on demand.’ crisis. mom will be upset if she knows her picture is on this. mom, if you’re reading, consider how bad my face looks in picture, and consider that we are in a moment of crisis:

11:12PM: mom is calling comcast. eating whole foods lemon jelly beans. said i would watch ‘the master,’ am interested in watching that. mom says it’s ‘too depressing.’ rememebered text from keith/old manager about ‘the master’ from the other night that i haven’t responded to yet. my phone has been dead since yesterday, am enjoying leaving it dead for now. sorry for inconvenience. secretly recording video of mom talking to comcast now. link to video below.

[if anyone knows how to do flickr embedding into tumblr let me know, just gonna be hot links until i feel motivated to figure out otherwise]

11:20PM: ate another handful lemon jelly beans. said ‘after this i’m going to stop.’ mom said ‘i know, they’re addictive. i think it’s the sugar that keeps us coming back.’ i said ‘well. you know. whatever you can get. you know. you take whatever makes you…whatever makes you come back’ in tone of voice she seemed to understand.

11:26PM: we have decided to watch ‘the master.’ feel i convinced…it was a product of me convincing. 

MARCH 22 2013 

2:46AM: i liked ‘the master’ in that i like all movies, i think. i like looking at joaquin phoenix’s face. his character in that movie reminded me of a guy i was obsessed with in high school then later had sporadic casual sex with for a few years. sometimes the sex was less casual than other times. also that guy looked like joaquin phoenix. i like people like joaquin phoenix’s character in that movie. i liked it when he kept having sex with the sand woman until he orgasmed. my mom said he was ‘deranged’ after that happened. i said ‘i like him, he’s funny.’

i liked when philip seymore hoffman said ‘we’re going to do an exercise called ‘pick a point.’ you pick a point and then you drive the motorcycle into it.’ then when joaquin phoenix did it he just kept going.

at one part where…this intense vague thing is going on with a wall…joaquin phoenix is walking between a wall and a window and people are watching him say ‘IT’S A WALL’ and things like that…then there is this tense silence, then philip seymore hoffman hugs joaquin phoenix. i said ‘this is a really weird episode of ‘the office’ you’re showing me mom’ and we had a good old laugh.

around 1:40AM mom paused the movie. oh man, before the movie i had eaten another 1mg xanax. then i made and ate an entire frozen pizza (to be fair, it was only like 8” in diameter). while the pizza was baking mom and me listed all the places we’ve ever lived. then another 1mg xanax and my birth control at 1:40. then i ate two pieces of toast (one with raspberry jam, one cinnamon sugar). i don’t feel xanax effects anymore.

i liked at the end where amy adams is like ‘you just can’t go through life straight’ to joaquin phoenix, referring to his heavy drinking. he looked extremely handsome and troubled and helpless. i wanted to erase all the other people in the room and sit on his lap and put my cheek against his cheek and rub parts of his chest and arms and face softly and silently transition down his body to give him a tender toothless blowjob.

i liked at the end when joaquin phoenix was having sex with the ‘normal body’ british girl and she was on top and he asked her the questions philip seymore hoffman asked him and they were laughing. then he said ‘put it back in, it fell out.’ i liked that the best.

going to take another xanax and set my alarm for 11:30AM.  

4:09AM: ate 3^rd mg of xanax for night. searched for ‘3/21/12’ in my gmail. when i went to the abortion clinic last may they gave me an ultrasound it said the baby started being in me on 3/23/12. i remember what happened that day. was really happy that day. several emails near 3/21/12 were from riteaid. some low-level ‘moving into apartment together’ business things or ‘hey meet me here at this time’ gchats from ex-boyfriend. stopped looking at email. walked to kitchen and opened a coconut as quietly as possible. going to…fucking…watch the last episode of ‘girls’…fall asleep…just realized my phone is still dead so i’ll have no alarm for tomorrow morning. oh well. something about the movie tonight made me think about babies. or no, my mom. talking with my mom and all of the places she lived when she was around my age. she was doing all of these things with a small child around. wish i could’ve been there with them, helping them. she said having crissy was the only thing stopping her from killing herself. feel like if i had a baby i would never kill myself, unless the baby was suffering terribly and i thought we both wanted to die, so i’d just wait for it to die and then kill myself. want to talk to crissy more. soothing ass coconut water. look at this tropical treat:

5:04AM: if i eat a bagel right now it might help me sleep. i’ll be going all out, bread style, today. here’s all the bread things i’ve eaten today:

-3-5 sprouted sugar-free ‘pecan meltaways’ (actually really good, extremely good)

-6-7 rice cake thingies dipped in baba ganoush

-2” long ‘heel’ of a bread loaf my mom had dipped in soy sauce and said ‘try it, it’s strangely good’

-8” frozen pizza (come on more like 10” but mom had a 1/8 slice so…)

-2 pieces whole grain/oatmeal toast

feel like there was another cookie in there somewhere. seems like i ‘have’ to do the bagel thing now, after listing all of those carbs. carb list. brad carbi: host of ‘other people.’

5:51AM: ate the bagel. ate 3 more of those cookie things. ate another 1mg xanax. watched ‘girls.’ now going to watch ‘asmr’ tagged youtube videos to encourage sleep. not sleepy at all. seems. feel horrible when i think about things that aren’t ‘you’re in bed, the one comforter that’s fluffier is always under the heavier one that’s not as warm, that’s where you are.’

6:05AM: gotta be real witchall. i sleep with this dragon every night. his name is ‘ta ta.’

6:18AM: seems like i’ve been asleep…or just barely…past 30 mins?

12:00PM: mom woke me, felt like a small child (think re so much xanax last night) not ready for something. drank glass of milk. ate 2 sprouted sugarless ‘pecan meltaways.’ returned to ‘beddy-by.’

 

1:28PM: mom woke me several times. said something like ‘it doesn’t seem like you really want to live there’ and got irritated because i’ve told her…repeatedly…don’t want to get into it. irritated, though. she left. saw that tao is doing poetry presentation in chicago tonight and invited people to party in his room and felt nostalgic for book tour i went on with him in beginning of relationship. read all about it in ‘taipei,’ look out for ‘taipei,’ which reading will likely make you sad and laugh and think interesting things about life the way tao’s books do only this one is my favorite.

plugged in phone so i could have a battery so i could sleep ~30 more minutes and saw barrage of texts which made me feel good and i will respond to when i’m awake a little more/get another nappy-noo. it saya there are 11 but can only see 4 on screen.

also are any of these phone numbers people who have gotten my phone number from earlier in this? seem to be a lot of telemarketers but…just leave me a message, if you want to talk, i’ll probably call you back. 

1:30-5:30PM: slept and hit snooze a lot. responded to mira brad listi colin texts. other texts too, i think. at some point made ‘the least you can do’ smoothie, to give me energy, or at least motivate me to be healthy today.

THE LEAST YOU CAN DO SMOOTHIE:

2 bananas

1 large bunch spinach

ice

it’s the least you can do. it tastes good. still kept napping.

also at some point i talked with ex-boyfriend on the phone. he is with his parents in new jersey. sort of sad about things. no more apartment. this is how it went. all the hope in the beginning, and this is how it went. also happy about no more apartment. on the phone i said ‘our lease expires in like a week, then i’ll like, never talk to you again’ and we laughed a little but i think that’s mostly true. going to hang out tomorrow…there is some movie…i don’t know. the last little dingle-berry hangings-on of a relationship. being nice all of a sudden to honor some thing. the hope you had, maybe. i’ve never done anything like this, like, continuing to talk to the person, i just ‘peace out.’ the other day he said ‘isn’t it weird that no matter what we’re always going to remember each other, like, we are the people we are going to remember?’ it was funny. 

5:30-6:17PM: responded to email from person who wants manuscript. people have been emailing me about liveblog a lot, it feels good. texted with dalas verdugo re ‘hearing voices’ before sleep. going to print & fedex manuscript and write cover letter after this update. ate an orange. seems like it’s been impossible to wake completely. mom came back from somewhere. i laid on the couch. dad called. mom said something in italian to him as a joke, like, ‘good luck,’ and said ‘i’m having a hard time thinking of the word.’ i was making second pot of coffee. i said ‘in a gadda da vida.’ mom said ‘in a gadda da vida’ to dad. then she said ‘meggie just said ‘in a gadda da vida,’ you know, that song.’ dad didn’t get it. she said ‘it’s okay, you’re tired.’ dad is going to sleep after being at some kind of workshop he needs to do every year to keep his psychologist license since 6AM. mom said ‘and he needs to do 40 hours of these things every 2 years and of course he waits until the last minute.’ i said ‘i do that,’ then in a ‘grand regal declaration’-voice, ‘i am my father’s daughter.’ mom said ‘you are in some ways.’

i said ‘i wish dad had adderall’ to mom. dad used to give me adderall sometimes. mom is on the phone asking dad for adderall now. jesus. dad has one 20mg adderall, he is bringing it over now. jesus. all hail uh.

then later something was said then something else about drugs then my mom said ‘you don’t want to have your dad’s mind when you’re his age, be careful’ with an honestly concerned-to-the-point-of-fear face. and i said something like ‘i won’t, i won’t’ unconvincingly. 

fed-ex is open until 9PM. 

my mom said ‘will it bother you if i go play piano in the other room?’ i said it wouldn’t at all. she is playing ‘when you wish upon a star.’

8:36PM: dad fell asleep, did not bring adderall. going to retrieve from his house. just printed 115-page, 31,200 word manuscript for person who paid me for manuscript of this liveblog so far. feeling happy looking at it. happy little shithead deluxe edition retard deadbeat dad megan boyle (have been referring to myself as a ‘deadbeat dad’ a lot lately).

9:07pm: FedEx was closed. Yoga is done for the day. Did not write cover letter. On my way to get adderall from dad. Smoking cigarette. Just ran over a grey lump. Want to like, pay a therapist or psychiatrist to read this and diagnose me. Really feel that there is something that I can…there is something I don’t know about that would help me. Feel that thing I’d feel on Sundays, knowing school is tomorrow and I haven’t done my homework. Disappointed in me.

9:21pm: Think I’m less likely to complete things now because I used to make more of an effort to complete them, things would be completed, but nothing has ever really changed about how I feel. Like all of the things I’ve tried…still feel directionless…

9:32pm: got adderall from dad. He was wearing ‘#1 father’ sweatshirt. I hugged him and said ‘number one dad.’ He has fake security cameras in his apartment I just noticed. I said ‘are they real?’ he said they were fake, ‘with little red dots’ to discourage burglars, then described scenario where burglar would see each camera. He said ‘they’d see one there, but then they’d see the other one there.’ hugged him again and left.

9:34pm: watched a video person said they made of my capitalized rant on march 18 I think. The video was 7 minutes long and think my phone stopped being able to view it, via low memory, before she got to the rant.

9:54pm: passed whole foods parking lot. It was too late. Going to Wegman’s for kale and cantaloupe for smoothie. Might exercise in mom’s gym. I don’t feel funny or interesting or capable of writing anything but robotic ‘this is what happened’ thoughts. This is the boring hell portion of liveblog. Boring low-point.

10:06pm: trying to think of things I want to listen to but feel deadly ‘there is nothing to want at all, about anything’ thing. Trying to conjure romantic fantasy things but feel overpowered with ‘none of that is going to happen, too many factors pulling in other directions, plus you are bad to be in relationships with, it is kinder not to inflict yourself on another person. Plus, remember what happens with every person you’ve ever felt happy around. It’s just going to end up the same thing.’

Aware that these feelings will pass on their own, as soon as I feel them enough or whatever, and I’ll feel completely different things soon. Just want to sleep. Thought ‘sleep under the armpit of someone.’ That seems hopeful. Slow return of hope. In the hope-launching process now. Denzel’s voice calmly saying ‘we are inverted now, fully inverted, we are now in the hope launching process’ to air traffic control.

10:23pm: listened to this song ‘ruins’ by aloha. I’ve seen them a lot, my friend who I’d do the ‘can’t do it’ surrendering-arms gesture and I were ‘obsessed’ with the drummer, cale parks. He moves his arms so fast and effortlessly and does really sweet fills. Feel retarded saying ‘really sweet fills’ but that’s what they are. Listened to words of the song, which I know most of, and sat in parking spot, crying a little. At the end there is this part that’s like ‘at the end of the story I was just beyond camera. Right outside the frame. Waiting for a getaway car that never came.’ Wanted to cry more than I was able to. Cried a little again writing lyrics just now, sitting in pee stall at Wegman’s.

(here are the lyrics, relate to all of the lyrics big time right now, seems beautiful to me) (this is the song, could only find live ones, song starts ~1:11, i like how they sound live, seems almost better to me actually) 

10:31pm: male voice said ‘maintenance.’ I said ‘okay’ from bathroom stall. Then female voice said ‘is anyone in here’ as I flushed toilet and left stall. I smiled and said ‘sorry.’ I was at the hands-washing station. She smiled and said ‘it’s fine take you time,’ closing the door.

10:37pm: selected kale, cantaloupe, green probiotic drink, b vitamins. Got in line with least people. The woman from the bathroom rang me up. Selected earbuds from the ‘last chance’ impulse buy rack. Wondered if woman and I would talk about bathroom thing. Customer in front of me left. I said ‘hi-iiiii’ and smiled. She didn’t look at me and said ‘hi how are you tonight’ I said ‘goo-oooood, how are you’ with the last part mumbled. She scanned my things. I entered my phone number in the credit card pay device thing. She held up a brown and mustard-yellow hippie-looking beanie and said ‘mark is this Dylan’s? It’s been here all day.’ I smiled and nodded and made a face/noise of ‘I know how that goes, man. Dylan, man’ but she didn’t see. I finished paying on the device. She said ‘someone gotta up and take that hat, I’m not about to…’ but I had taken my bags and left at that point.

11:03pm: ex-boyfriend had called when I was peeing. Called him back. Not going to say details, seems apparent that he’s read this, or at least part of it. He said he’s not at his parent’s house and has been back in Philadelphia. Corrected me in a funny way. Said I should come tonight instead, think I will, I don’t know, conflicted about going. Feel like I want to do something different. If I go I can go to the library and write article tomorrow. I like that library. Conflicted knowing he’s reading this, am going to be inhibited saying things now, to some degree, knowing they will lead to him saying critical/mean-spirited things. Or like, ‘oh you included that, I see. Huh. Interesting.’ and I’ll feel bad. Fuck that. Fuck that [name omitted by request] you know our relationship is over. Fuck me for feeling affected by things. All of what I just wrote leads me to believe there is no logical reason for me to go, if my goal is to feel good and not hear people say negative things about me to me. I want to go though. Jesus. Maybe it will be nice. Used to be nice. It’s actually always nice and kind of bad-feeling, seeing him. Equal amounts. The library. Using the library and wanting change of scenery as my rational excuse for going. Desire to go is mostly fueled by emotional things, though. Okay at least I know that, both of those things. Parked in mom’s driveway right now. Coat smells like from hugging dad. If it starts to feel more bad than good I’ll just leave.

11:47PM: entered mom’s. blended kale and cantaloupe in blender. seemed to take a long time, like maybe 3 minutes, to combine the things. tried to coax ingredients together with a spoon, required physical effort, like, pushing. let my eyes go unfocused. imagined the spoon accidentally hitting the knife thingy inside the blender, causing the blender to explode, and a piece of its glass hitting me in the throat and blood everywhere, nearly instant death. (difficulty)

 (success)

11:30-12: updated this, drank smoothie thing, called ex-boyfriend to say I wasn’t coming, left a voicemail like ‘hey-a thissa the pizza guy, manny, you ordera errr uh pick up your phone,’ called again, he said he was sad to hear I wasn’t coming, I said something about not wanting to think about what to bring, he reminded me most of my stuff is there, I said ‘if I come can we go to the library tomorrow morning—er, afternoon?’ he said yes and that he had written 4500 words today and felt good, I said ‘I’ve been doing that too, it feels good,’ he said something about being focused on words like…’high’ but he didn’t say ‘high’..,but then that he had gone to bars alone and I remembered our conversation from before when he told me about going to this bar we’ve joked about because of its presentation as ‘extreme hot spot’ or something…it’s called ‘3G’. Tonight when he left a group of people took his picture with them and were like ‘why are you going so soon?’ he seemed drunk talking to me in the first conversation leaving Wegman’s and drunk in the one after midnight just now. But. Seems too complicated to talk about this, the dynamic between us, my wants for going, my ‘knowing better’ but not really knowing better, how…you know a person over time…there is sadness…you cause sadness and disappointment in each other but you don’t stop, or like, you almost stop, you’re basically completely stopped until your lease expires in a week. And then you know you won’t know them anymore. You know you will forget most of it. But they’ve been the most consistent thing in your progressively insignificant life for 18 months. You’ve done and said everything mean and bad you can say to each other but it’s also never been hard to laugh. Yeah I’ve laughed the most in this one. Relationship. But also felt the least similar to…the person…a fatal dissimilarity we’re both aware of…goddamnit

MARCH 23 2013

12:54am: mom walked me out to my car and for the maybe 90 seconds it took me to settle objects and phone into their ‘voyage ready’ positions, stood by the door watching me. She said ‘I almost want to tell you to give him a hug for me but…’ and I said ‘no he’s fine,  he’s just, don’t not want to hug him, it’s complicated’ and didn’t know what to say. Driving now.

1:41am: have started listening to ‘ruins’ on repeat. Read the words while listening just now and had goosebumps entire time. Thought I was going to cry full out, for real, didn’t happen. Words seem so beautiful, like, in a way I haven’t realized until now, they are saying the things I can’t put words to right now. Seems. Jesus. The end part. Fuck it I’m just going to type the end part, I was being considerate with just giving you the link before, now you must endure (or skip ahead), fuck it man this moves me greatly:

We were giants on a plywood stage
In evenings I was your household name
And for a little while, I knew all the words you’d say

Coming from the movie
Hold me for the credits
I was just beyond camera
Right outside the frame
Waiting for a getaway car that never came

At the end of the story I was just beyond camera
Right outside the frame
Waiting for a getaway car that never came
Waiting for a getaway car that never came

But all of the lyrics, man. Fighting urge to type them all. Not a good idea while driving. Here: if you liked that thing you just read, then boy are you going to like the whole thing. Also another ‘extremely affecting’ song by aloha is ‘summer away,’ highly recommend that song as well.

1:58am: passing Newark, Delaware. Predict I will not update liveblog as frequently when I’m interacting with ex-boyfriend. Predict feelings of self-consciousness and wanting to avoid saying or doing things that will illicit a negative response from him. This is fucked up about me, I think.

2:17am: commented on Sam pink’s thing he just posted about a candy ass racist reviewer. Wish I was driving to Sam pinks house instead of where I’m going. Should I not include things like this. No I’m including everything, fuck it, fuck me fuck it. I don’t really wish I was anything at the moment actually. Wish I was a…just…something alive but not conscious of its aliveness. Or like, anything else. Wish I was anything else. Good epitaph for me: ‘she was never something else.’

2:22am: just passed billboard advertising a ‘lifestyle salad.’ Want to eat a ‘fleetwood mac ‘rumors’ tour lifestyle salad.’

2:30AM: parked outside apartment. entered building. saw giant ‘nesquick’ container on top of our mailbox. walked up the stairs to apartment, then through door, then up our apartment stairs. lights were off. thought ‘shit, i won’t be able to sleep.’ put vegetables i brought in fridge, then took my coat with me to the bathroom. took 2mg xanax from coat pocket and chewed with front teeth while peeing. coat was propped on the shower. heard footsteps. said ‘that’s too heavy to be shirley’ and saw ex-boyfriend standing in the bathroom doorway, wearing glasses and pajama pants and a giant blue knee-length t-shirt (i have the same one in pink, we bought them at a thrift store shortly after moving in together, but have rarely worn them). he was holding a water bottle and looked sad and faraway and tired and maybe drunk. i wiped and walked to him without flushing toilet. i said ‘hi mingus’ or something, then ‘how about that nesquick?’ he didn’t say anything. it seemed hard to adjust to seeing his body in front of me, like he seemed shorter maybe, or his head was larger. his hair was wet. he held me really close to him and i held him really close back. touched each other’s bodies in places while hugging. felt affected by how he seemed to be affected. smelled by his ear and it smelled like him. on the drive over i wasn’t thinking about…something…that now i seemed to be thinking about, which seemed important, but is hard to articulate. the thing caused by just physically-being-around someone. walked to the bedroom and kissed and took off each other’s clothes. not going to describe sex. hadn’t planned on having sex and sort of didn’t want to but knew i would and we would if i went and wanted to as it was happened. 

4-5AM: wanted a sandwich badly. drove us to aramingo diner. the waitress said ‘hey ladies’ then realized ex-boyfriend was a boy (he has very long hair) and apologized. this has happened before. i said ‘they think that because of your face also, your face is also very pretty.’ at some point he asked me to change his name to ‘ex-boyfriend’ completely, in liveblog thing, but this may have happened at some other time. talked about person who i like but i don’t think likes me anymore. he said something about it being because i had introduced the person to drugs. i said i didn’t think so, that i wasn’t the first person to do drugs with them, and that they didn’t seem like the kind of person who would ‘blame’ me or hold anyone responsible for things about their life that they controlled/decisions they make anyway, that they probably didn’t like me anymore because of other things, which i felt i sort of understood and didn’t want to talk about. he seemed insistent on the drug thing. feeling very irritated, typing this now, retardedly obsessively unstoppably irritated. resisting urge to talk about argument in detail. enjoyed the sandwich very much. things seemed better, eventually. it seemed apparent that neither of us wanted to argue but were aware of arguing, so one or both of us stopped or changed the subject. i don’t remember other things we talked about at the diner. remember joking about music in the car. went to bed feeling good.

12:30PM: woke and had sex. felt not fully awake, the entire time. after sex we laid with no covers on. our apartment has never had heat, which is okay, but i’m always cold. i said something about wanting a blanket and ex-boyfriend said ‘you don’t need that.’ i sort of lazily wrestled with him to pull the smaller blanket onto me and he said ‘you don’t need that’ again. blanket didn’t seem to do anything. laid like that for awhile, saying small things, some jokes, i think. i said ‘i’m making a smoothie’ and put on pajamas and went to kitchen area and ex-boyfriend followed shortly after.

1:15PM: ex-boyfriend played the ‘shirley song’ i referenced earlier in this and said ‘is this the shirley song?’ i said ‘yes’ and tried to show him, like, sing him it as if it was shirley, while assembling smoothie ingredients and blending. in the blending process a ‘cracked egg mid-falling into a bowl’ sculpture thingy i like but ex-boyfriend has always hated broke from the vibrations on the table. made an ‘incredulous, losing the most obvious thing on ‘the price is right’ face’ and he made the same face and then a fake-villian ‘hand rub.’ we said ‘oh no’ a few times. i said ‘you think it’s broken, but it’s happened before, and i’ve fixed it’ in a…some kind of tone…fake-mad. smoothie was extremely cold. i said ‘i’m going back to the bedroom to drink this under the covers.’ he said ‘then i’ll go take my shower my favorite way: alone.’ i said ‘fine. then after that i’ll take my shower my favorite way: alone.’ we sounded like ‘children doing that competitive angry thing’ only that we were aware of doing that and making fun of it/ourselves, maybe, or at least i was. i went to the bedroom and am under blankets. alive is ‘kneading’ by me. drinking spinach, avocado, coconut water, frozen banana, smoothie.

1:26PM: i heard shower running, then stop, then the radiator click on and off, which means there’s no cold water. there is a thing you have to do to the radiator to get it to work again. ex-boyfriend walked to the bedroom doorway, wearing giant knee-length t-shirt from last night, and shrugged and made a funny face. i said ‘oh you had to do the thing.’

1:30PM: went to shower together. i peed. heard ex-boyfriend singing ‘i’m your boogie man’ and i sang part of ‘boogie nights’ and took off clothes. he said ‘that’s not the same song,’ i said ‘i know.’ seemed hard to think about anything but the part of ‘boogie nights’ that’s like ‘dance to the boogie, get down.’ i sang that, then the next part, which is like, ‘cause boogie nights are a-dundun dun [low voice] keep on dancing, keep on dancin’.’ then we were both in the shower. we sang parts of ‘i’m your boogie man’ and ‘boogie nights.’ i said ‘keep on ted dansen.’

i allowed myself to hog the hot water, or, like. the shower stream. dominate the shower stream. at some point ex-boyfriend said something about a girl who he recently…we went to lunch with maybe six people, and the entire time he was…acting…he was hitting on these girls sarcastically, but sort of seriously, then getting her phone number while i was driving, and being really loud/dominant about the whole thing, and i was saying things sarcastically/lightheartedly but that i really sort of felt, like ‘don’t have unprotected sex with him, [girl’s name]’ and ‘he’s going to mess up your life if you date him, don’t do it, i wasted a year and a half…’ and she said ‘did you guys really date?’ and he denied to dating me, and i said ‘we live together, we had sex this morning,’ and he…jesus. feel really angry typing this, it was so stupid. another stressful thing was going on where…there were six people in my car, which holds five, and one of the people asked if i could give their mom a ride, but the mom’s phone had died, so we were just continuing to drive around and i was listening to ex-boyfriend hit on these girls and being mostly…i don’t know how i was being. was not aware of how i was acting, was consumed with stress and bad feelings. think i was trying to be quiet and accommodate the person whose mom wanted a ride, while sometimes hearing ex-boyfriend say ‘this is hell, what are we doing’ and feeling that me not giving the mom a ride would be inconsiderate, since she didn’t know the city, and the person whose mom it was saying something like ‘i’m a caretaker of people’ to something i said about it being hard to coordinate giving the mom a ride with so many people in the car and no cell phone. after i dropped off everyone, ex-boyfriend continued to tease me about how he had gotten the girl’s phone number and was going to have sex with her and all the things he was going to do to her. he was saying all of it teasingly/jokingly but sometimes i feel too sensitive and like i can’t…handle…i don’t know. we had plans to go to the library together, but when we got there i said ‘i’m just going home, that was like, the worst experience, i hated everything about the past two hours. everything.’ he said ‘you even hated me?’ i said ‘i hated you especially. i hated how you were acting. i’m going home, i don’t want to be around any people for awhile.’ he seemed sad that i was upset and i could tell he didn’t mean to upset me and i felt like i shouldn’t be upset. 

so, back to the shower: he alluded to that girl. i asked him what happened and he said something about an okcupid message exchange and a date seeming too hard to coordinate, due to her personality, or something else. he said ‘don’t think i didn’t try, though.’ i said ‘oh okay, okay’ and didn’t feel affected…or like, i was mostly thinking like how i’d think in a situation with co-workers, where i was trying to move a conversation along.

i said ‘the water is getting colder.’ felt distracted by cold water and knowing the apartment would be cold, annoyed at myself for being annoyed with these things. ex-boyfriend said something about how i’ve been living in ‘the luxury of your mom’s condo, where you can just order thai food and say ‘hey can you guys just please bring it to my bedroom? i don’t want to get the door, can you just bring it upstairs to my bed?’’ and i laughed a little, or like, jokingly defended myself. i said ‘i haven’t even ordered food once since i’ve been there.’ continued to make mild complaints about the water, coldness, each other. i said ‘DONE’ and felt like a child and turned off the water. looked at ex-boyfriend’s face, which was looking somewhere in the distance, displaying a ‘childishly, helplessly uncomfortable’ expression. handed him the thicker/’nicer’ towel and he left shower almost immediately while i toweled off standing in the bathtub. felt myself shivering and unable to focus on anything but how it would be very cold until my hair was dry, minutes away, but ‘long sets’ of minutes, like at least 15. didn’t feel seriously irritated by anything that was going on and am unsure if ex-boyfriend did either. minimal emotional investment. ex-boyfriend left bathroom first and turned on the kitchen radio, then walked to the bedroom and turned on the bedroom radio.  

1:49PM: re-applied pajamas to body for ‘the cold walk to the bedroom.’ heard ex-boyfriend’s said ‘meg i won’t even have to keep you away from me in the bedroom ‘cause tom waits is on the radio.’ i said ‘noooooooo.’ jogged to the bedroom and went under the covers. tom waits was making horrible noises. they were talking about pirates on the radio. i said ‘has any rapper ever been like, ‘i’m rap’s scallion?’’ ex-boyfriend said ‘that’s good’ and went to make coffee.

1:53PM: dressed in black leggings, black american apparel dress that’s lace/sheer on top, black cardigan, two long gold necklaces. this is a ‘look’ i see mira wearing a lot and my friend chelsea wearing a lot. unsure if i can do this look. i like trying. i like ‘all black.’ looked for make-up. felt unsure about outfit. felt focused on: 1. knowing ex-boyfriend thinks make-up is ‘stupid’ but recently hearing him say ‘yeah you do look better with make-up’ in a way that seemed acceptable because we were around other people, kind of ‘performing our antagonistic/jibe-making’ dynamic for them, and he could’ve been joking, and 2. recent conversation which started with my casual interest in ‘who ex-boyfriend thought was prettier: me or [all the other girls i know of that he’s dated]’ but ended with me crying and driving us, lost in brooklyn somewhere, saying ‘[other ex-boyfriend once said ‘don’t you ever think about being one of those ‘really pretty girls?’ you’re almost that pretty, if you lost more weight], i know i’m never going to be pretty enough to be really pretty, my face will never be pretty enough and my body will always look weird even if it’s really skinny, there’s nothing i can do.’ looked in the mirror in all-black outfit and thought ‘yeah, yeah. no. it’s good. you got this. all-black, man. remember mira and chelsea. they got this man. you got this. 

1:55-2:20PM: walked to the eating area. ex-boyfriend said ‘well look at you’ or something, maybe complimentary. i sort of snorted and said ‘yeah.’ he made coffee and we sat drinking it at the kitchen table. i don’t remember everything we said. emotional music was playing. i asked ex-boyfriend what he’d do when we have to move. he seemed to have no idea and didn’t want to talk about it. i said ‘i feel like you’re just going to kill yourself. you have no ideas?’ and felt annoying, like i was annoying him, but i wanted to know what would happen to him. i told him when i first met him in new york in 2009 and he was living with his girlfriend in this really nice apartment, i said ‘i thought ‘whoa, that’s what life can be like? they just wake up and live in this place, and do these things, and talk to these people they like, and it’s just normal?’ he said that even then he felt bad. he said ‘i remember like, drinking beers on the porch before work and feeling bad. i was just starting to be disillusioned or something, now i’m fully…whatever.’ i thought about him and me and how our lives have gone since we met. felt my eyes be watery. he picked up a long, white, rolled paper and said ‘look at this thing.’ i said ‘whoa, look at it’ and could tell my voice sounded different, like it was trying to sound okay. he said ‘i don’t know, maybe i’ll move to new york again’ and looked defeated. we were quiet for a few moments. i sat up and said ‘i’m going to do something potentially alienating right now’ and sat next to him and hugged him and said ‘i’m glad i at least got to know you for a little while.’ i don’t like that i said the alienating thing, i should’ve just. or. i don’t know. i don’t like that i did that, any of that.

2:20PM: debated walking to library but i said we needed cat food, we are out, i said like, ‘they are depending on us.’ ex-boyfriend said ‘they have dry, look.’ there was uneaten dry and crusted-over wet food. i said ‘you know they’re not going to eat that.’

drove to get cat food and energy drinks for me and a bagel for him before the library. there are so many things i’m leaving out, seems hard to include everything. on the drive i said ‘do you think either of us are going to find, like, true love?’ he said ‘i am’ without hesitation. i said ‘do you think i am?’ he said ‘maybe with someone gay. in some kind of, like, alternative set-up.’ i said ‘what do you mean, like an actual gay person?’ he said ‘i don’t know. it’s going to be an alternative set-up.’ i said ‘i think i found it before.’ he said ‘oh with that retard?’ i said ‘no i think i had it with [person]. and maybe. like. there could be again. i don’t know.’ i felt bad saying all of this and like i was hating myself for saying it but was unable to stop. i said ‘so, i wonder what she’s going to be like: your person. okay. she’s going to have to read john o’hara, and know as many books as you know, and be really pretty but not wear make-up, have a steady job.’ he said ‘you’re being stupid right now.’ i said ‘i know, i’m sorry.’ a reggae station was on the radio the whole time. i parked next to kaplan’s deli and operation ava. i said ‘oh no, i can’t go in there, they know about the annie thing’ (gave annie, my other cat, to a shelter after taking her to the vet at operation ava). 

2:30-?PM: bought a poppyseed bagel with cream cheese for ex-boyfriend while he bought cat food next door. ex-boyfriend entered kaplan’s with blue bag. i said ‘they didn’t have everything bagels so i got you a poppy one.’ ex-boyfriend said ‘they didn’t have cat food so i got dog food.’ i said ‘are you serious’ and tried to look inside the bag, which he kept jerking away. i said ‘you got…you really got…’ and he was smiling and said ‘yes’ and i said ‘we need to return—or, i mean,’ and he smiled said ‘they were out of cat food. really. you honestly, really think they were out of cat food. over there. there was no cat food.’ i smiled and said ‘oh jeez’ or something but felt a little bad. i don’t think i would feel bad at all if someone who was not my ex-boyfriend was saying this. or. maybe. i don’t know nevermind. 

3:30PM: parked on 15^th street. ex-boyfriend said ‘look at the bud light eagles can, oh my god.’ there was a bud light can that i could barely see was ‘eagles’-themed next to some taller pole-fixtures. he said ‘it looks so small, around the other things, oh my god.’ felt like i ‘loved’ the can and loved ex-boyfriend and that this was going on. i said ‘yeah, it’s like, the label is facing out, it’s showing us.’ he said ‘yeah. i can’t believe it’s there.’ it looked like it was a person on the street like, lost, maybe selling something, definitely lost. i said ‘i want a picture’ and ex-boyfriend stood by it. he made a gesture towards the can but i took a picture without him gesturing. put picture on instagram. felt excited for other things like the can, that we could find. felt my brain gearing up in a certain way…to look for interesting things with a person…that i like to do, but know i can sometimes ‘go overboard’ with it and annoy people. it’s (i think) usually one of the things people first like about me, but then ‘hate’ about me, in romantic situations, because i’m like…always doing that, always wanting to do that…just say stuff…like ‘look at that thing, it’s like that thing is something else’ then invent ‘something else’ scenarios, ideally together, but. yeah this seems to annoy people eventually, always. people always want to stop doing that. it’s like they get the joke but i like the things that…it can stop being a joke of ‘it’s something else’ and evolve into even more ridiculous things…untapped potential for everything to become ridiculous scenarios, always…so. i can see myself being annoyed with a person who does it as relentlessly and sometimes insensitively, to like, other things. other dynamics. like if i can tell the person is feeling bad but i’m feeling good i’ll still want to do it. sometimes because i think it can make them feel better but more often because i’m bored with them feeling bad. but then when i feel bad. it’s. uh. i’m on 20mg adderall, it’s 5:15PM, i’m at the library, ‘YOU’LL GET TO THAT SOON’ don’t worry…jesus… 

3:32PM: walked to ‘fresh grocer.’ ex-boyfriend said ‘entrance and exit. when you go to the exit you also exit, but when you go to the entrance you enter. enter.’ i laughed and said things. he said ‘this is where the energy things are’ and i rubbed my hands together fiendishly, knowing he doesn’t like energy drinks, i think, like, wanted to…i do things like this a lot around him, jokingly exaggerate things he doesn’t like. i saw ‘xyience xenergy drink: official energy drink of the UFC,’ which is my favorite, not only because its name is so ridiculous and it’s the official drink of the UFC, but it tastes really good. i selected one of each flavor (cran razz, blue pom, mango guava—most places usually just have two flavors but fresh grocer had all three, i was excited) like a madman. i laughed like a madman, i think, fake madman-laughed.

said casual things about our surroundings while walking to the self-checkout line with the least people. ex-boyfriend said ‘a lot of people buying things today. this is the day they want the stuff.’ i said ‘yeah. remember when we were here with atcolv [what we call andrew colville]? and the cheese-its?’ he said ‘yeah. he seems to snack a lot.’ i said ‘yeah. i can see him snacking a lot. it’s what keeps him so tall.’ ex-boyfriend laughed. there was a big box of discounted books. i said ‘do you think there’s a john o’hara book in there?’ he said ‘maybe, probably. i wouldn’t want to date a girl who liked john o’hara. he’s like. it’s nasty to like that.’ i said ‘i thought that was the thing about me. or like, or one of them. that i never wanted to read john o’hara.’ he said ‘no, no’ and shook his head, then made a comedian-like face and said ‘that was definitely not it,’ referencing all of the other things ‘it’ was, i think, maybe seriously but maybe not. 

i scanned the energy drinks on the self-scanner and put them in a bag. ex-boyfriend inserted coins into the machine before i could. i inserted a five dollar bill and the overhead music changed to, like, old timey vaudeville music, like ‘speakeasy’ music. i struggled with inserting the one dollar bill. i said ‘the music is perfect for what i’m doing.’ the machine printed my receipt and a nickel ‘flew’ out into the coin return area. i made a groucho marx face and pointed at the coin dispenser and said ‘keep the change.’ ex-boyfriend ran to get the nickel, fueled by his (what i consider) neurotic want to not waste things. **SOMETHING WAS SAID IN THIS TIME THAT WAS LIKE, PERFECT, I SAID SOMETHING ABOUT THE NICKEL THAT HE UNDERSTOOD AS MEANING SOMETHING ELSE WE HAD REFERENCED EARLIER ABOUT ‘THINGS THAT MADE OUR RELATIONSHIP STOP WORKING,’ MAD THAT I’M FORGETTING THIS, JUST…IMAGINE SOMETHING HAPPENING LIKE THAT**

3:37PM: walked to temple university campus. ex-boyfriend said ’40 going on 60 would be a much more interesting concept, to me’ out of nowhere. i smiled and said ‘yeah.’ passed this building:

the entire back of the building seems missing. the sheets in the windows were like, blowing in the wind. i said ‘that building is so good, i want a picture’ and took one. ex-boyfriend said ‘yeah, like. jail is the only place where you’re not supposed to leave. you’re supposed to leave, like, city halls or libraries. everywhere wants you to leave. but not jail. it’s the only place where they won’t let you leave.’ i smiled i think, said something in agreement, felt good things about him, like, ‘shit i’m going to miss being around someone who thinks like this.’

said things about people going to school at temple. a man was running. one of us said ‘yeah, better run to that place you’re going,’ and we said things like ‘yeah get there fast, guy, the faster you get there the better, you don’t want to be late for that thing you’re going to.’ there was some building, like, a dorm-like building. i said ‘temple commons, party in temple commons tonight, don’t forget your busch light.’ then paused and said ‘no one has ever said that, i’m the first one.’ ex-boyfriend said ‘oh, really?’ and seemed mildly irritated with me, like i was starting to do the thing were i get carried away with trying to find interesting things to say.

3:40PM: went inside a building to find ex-boyfriend’s bank. he said ‘do you think the bank will be open?’ i said it would and felt bored with this line of talking. he was walking ahead of me. there were a lot of like, older people, sitting around in chairs, in this student center-type building. almost took a picture of an old man who looked extremely, cartoonishly old, who i pointed to discreetly and said ‘albert einstein’ about, to ex-boyfriend getting money from an ATM. ex-boyfriend seemed mildly irritated. i thought ‘just be quiet for awhile, don’t be the first one to say something for awhile, it’ll get better. maybe show him you don’t need to be around him’ and walked to a glass window completely covered in a modern-looking decal about office supplies and office services. i stared at a box that said ‘LAMIN’ above ‘ATION.’ thought about taking a picture. two people sat near the decal. i thought they’d see me taking the picture and. something. they seemed to be communicating with each other non-verbally, not noticing me. one of them stood and the other started gathering things. ex-boyfriend waved to me from the ATM, about 30 feet away. i walked over to him. i said ‘it’s depressing in here.’

3:41PM: walked through a set of doors to library to an area where the ceiling seemed high, which to me looked like it could’ve contained some kind of security device but i know it didn’t. there was a man in a suit. ex-boyfriend said ‘let’s go in the other way,’ and we walked out the doors. i said ‘yeah, seemed too official.’ walked to the other entrance. saw closed-looking ‘food station’ with interesting use of ellipsis.

3:45PM: sat in open-looking ‘quiet zone’ area which i said looked ‘better for computers.’ ex-boyfriend said he was going where he went last time. have been updating this thingy. 

4:11PM: just made extremely nasty, extremely egg-smelling poop. the need to do it was urgent. a girl was in the bathroom and someone was in the next stall. these are things that usually stop me from pooping. i remembered my friend mattie, from college, telling me she was in a bathroom and overheard someone in the next stall ‘really going at it,’ like shitting and farting extremely loudly, and mattie feeling proud of the person. the shitting person and mattie exited at the same time. the shitting person was her sister, she didn’t even know. she told her sister she was amazed that she could like that in public and her sister said that she used to worry about making noises or smells, but at some point realized everyone does it, there is no point worrying about it. i felt like that when i shat just now. proud nasty public shitting.

4:50PM: ex-boyfriend just approached my ‘computer station’ thingy, with all his things. i was typing the shower thing. i tried to minimize the screen and he noticed and nodded his head like ‘whoa, okay, you crazy person’ and i smiled and tugged his lower arm and said ‘hi bingo.’ i held onto the arm and it swiveled me in the wheel-y chair i’m sitting in. he kept looking like that, like ‘you crazy person’ at me, and i kept smiling. i said ‘what,? do you want to read what i wrote?’ and made the screen visible again. he shook his head ‘definitely no’ and started to back away. felt aware of him saying zero words. i said ‘how long do you want to stay here?’ and he shrugged, now seemingly not saying words on purpose, and i touched and kind of pulled on his lower arm again and said ‘i want to stay here a long time.’ he nodded slowly and walked away with a look on his face like he had just heard someone say ‘i just won the lottery, but i’m going to burn all the money and jump off a cliff.’ i smiled and made little laughing nose-sounds, watching him walk away. seems like…we’re both kidding all of the time…it’s like we’re acting or something. acting the parts of something. i’m never sure when one of us is serious, unless we’re arguing, or i’m crying.

5:36PM: peed. used the same stall i used when i made the egg poop. i like using the same stall every time. it’s like ‘hello, old friend.’ it didn’t smell like eggs anymore. seems extremely difficult to include everything that’s happened. i’m updating this without

6:18PM: ex-boyfriend approached computer-area again. feeling guilty for talking so much about what we’re doing. seems dirty, what i’m doing. exploitative. but not really. because what am i exploiting? i don’t know. he’s felt bad about things i’ve written about him before, like thought i was trying to make him into a ‘bad guy’ and garner sympathy, or something, like that was my sole intention in writing this thing, it was ‘the main event’ of this thing i wrote, so feel like if he reads this he’s going to think the same thing about what i’m doing now, even though i don’t feel bad about anything about him—i don’t want sympathy, i’m not writing this so people will be like ‘poor me,’ i’m writing this as a document of everything i’m thinking. and yeah, people affect me, sometimes people say things to me and it creates an emotional reaction, yeah. but my emotional reaction is completely separate from the person who caused that reaction in me, who probably didn’t even intend to cause a reaction in me, who just wanted to say something for whatever…their own reasons. i don’t know. i like to think that most people think/understand this, about writing. when they read things. that. the author is describing purely their experience, which they are responsible for, no one else, and that may be influenced by things, but IS NOT THE THINGS THEY ARE INFLUENCED BY, they are just filtering those things through them. i am not describing this well. i’m getting frustrated. a person is wearing white croc-like shoes near me and tapping them and i am frustrated because of that too.

on the phone last night he said something about one of his friends who uses heroin regularly. his heroin friend said he either hangs out with other heroin-users, or people who disapprove of his heroin use, but that my ex-boyfriend was unique in that he didn’t seem to care about his heroin use. then my ex-boyfriend said ‘it’s weird, because i don’t give a fuck about what anyone does, but the last girl i dated, i would give her a hard time about how she used drugs.’ the heroin friend said that was weird/unexpected. then i said i understood that, sort of, like he’s closer to me and so wants me to be similar to him. then he said ‘but i drink all the time and that’s bad, i don’t know, i think it’s like, the person you’re with is a reflection of who you are.’ i think that’s the only reason he’d feel…anything…about me, saying anything about him, because he thinks it reflects on him in some way, like he thinks people are judging him based on the people he associates with, which is true to some degree, i think—but like. i don’t know. feel like this is how we are very fundamentally different. the people i talk to are just…they have nothing to do with me. i’m not them. i sometimes worry about what people think about me but not because of the people i associate with, it’s because of how i behave and how i act around each individual person. i don’t think any way is more ‘right,’ but i do think this…is…part of why i don’t want to be in this relationship. this difference. seems ‘way too different,’ this difference. 

6:32PM: feel like i’m saying too much but i want to be including everything/saying everything. this seems stupid. going to write cover letter now.

7:03PM: left library. ex-boyfriend seemed in a hurry, via library closing at 7. i wanted to pee and he said ‘you can pee in fresh grocer, come on, let’s go.’ ex-boyfriend seemed stressed or upset, said he didn’t do much at library. i said ‘i’ve just been writing down everything we’ve been doing, everything since last night.’ he said ‘good’ dismissively. passed the ‘temple commons’ building. he said ‘busch light’ or something and i said ‘busch light headquarters.’ he seemed rushed. sometimes he acts like he’s in a rush. i’m always ‘the slow one.’ i wanted to be like ‘where are you going, where do you want to go so fast’ and thought about the running man from earlier.

7-8PM?: i’m writing this now at 8:59, just going to write everything i remember in sequence, i don’t know times.

near the ‘fresh grocer’ sign there was another sign that said ‘frogro: sushi,’ some other signs about what was inside, like ‘produce’ and ‘deli’ and things like that. i said ‘frogro, like how people say ‘rofo’ about ‘royal farms.’’ ex-boyfriend said ‘frogro…’ i said ‘rofo.’ he said ‘’deli’ means…’ i put my hand on his shoulder and mock-seriously said ‘deli means never having to say you’re sorry.’ he said ‘oh god…’ and looked up, away from me, like looking for an answer to ‘when will it stop.’ he said ‘would it be better if atcolv was around right now, to just. it would be another person, would that make me feel better?’ i said ‘i can go home, i don’t have to be here.’  we entered the store. he said ‘no, i’m sorry, we’re having a nice time, i’m sorry.’ i said ‘i don’t want to make you feel bad just by being here, it’s really no problem for me to go.’ he said ‘no honey, i’m sorry.’ he pointed at a bathroom area that seemed hard to access.

wiped pee off seat and typed something into my phone about the deli thing. didn’t wash hands. made eye contact with ex-boyfriend on the other side of the cash registers. followed each other comically…like…musical comedy-style, i kept looking for a place where i could cross/ walk ‘backwards’ through a check-out line to get to where he was.

we talked about getting things for dinner. i wanted pizza and said that a few times, directionlessly. both of us seemed to feel increasingly bad, thinking about what to eat, each expressed ‘i wish i never had to think about what to eat,’ i said i would just eat the rest of my smoothie and buy fruit but felt irritated at doing that, like i wish we were making a food together or going out to eat somewhere. i said that. he said ‘there’s no point in buying more olive oil, i’m only going to live here for another week.’ we said things about what we could eat, less to each other and more just out loud. he said he was just going to make rice and beans. i said ‘i want a bagel for later. no i don’t.’ we looked at bagels. he said ‘you want this, this egg bagel?’ i said ‘no that shit’s yellow, fuck that shit.’ felt increasingly bad, wandering produce aisles, watching him walk fast. i walked to get oranges and a cantaloupe to combine with kale later, then stopped completely. watched ex-boyfriend select a green pepper. started walking together again. he said ‘i feel like i’m going to cry,’ smiling a little. i said ‘me too, i feel so bad.’ we paid for things. there was difficulty.

in the car he said ‘i just had a bad day at the library. you had a good day.’ i said ‘yeah but i didn’t actually do anything like, important, that i said i’d do. i’m just typing this thing because it makes me feel good and nothing has made me feel good for a long time, so just keep doing this, for like. maybe in the future. something will happen with it. oh my god, oh my god…’ and wanted to not be saying those things. 

i said ‘what are the actual things that are making you feel bad right now?’ he waited a moment and expressed vague things about not feeling a desire to do anything…the things you need to do to stay alive being hard, seeming easy for others. he asked me why i felt bad. felt surprised that he asked me that. i said something like ‘worried about my future, sad about now, i don’t have anything to look forward to anymore.’ he said ‘i don’t even get the concept of ‘looking forward to’ anymore, like, what will happen? it’s just temporary comforting things until the inevitable thing.’ i said ‘yeah, that’s what i mean by ‘nothing to look forward to.’’

parked car by our apartment. seemed hard to get out of the car. the car in front of us had a funny permanent-looking ‘for sale’ decal, like ‘for sale’ almost in cursive. we said things about it. i turned off the car. it was quiet. i said ‘we have to go inside now.’ he said ‘do we?’ i leaned over and hugged him. he said ‘a hug is just like, being outbid on ebay.’

inside we seemed to feel worse and worse, saying things to each other that indicated vaguely, some kind of hopelessness. stood in the kitchen. i hugged him from behind and said ‘now your back will be warm.’ he said ‘i’m being outbid on ebay.’

i opened the fridge door. there’s a watermelon in there that’s been there for months, i think. seemingly months. it’s what has been smelling bad about the kitchen. earlier in the day one of us had said we thought the watermelon is what’s making the kitchen smell bad. i said ‘i want to throw it out the window.’ ex-boyfriend said ‘like where i threw up’ (earlier, before the library, he had shown me that he threw up macaroni and cheese out the bedroom window onto part of our roof—the apartment is such that…we have two floors, kind of, there is an area where you can throw things up on).

i said ‘no, like, right out here, throw it out this window.’ he said ‘we can’t do that.’ he said ‘should we take it to the park?’ i grinned and said ‘yeah.’ somehow…we became committed to this. taking the watermelon somewhere. he said ‘here, put it in this shitty bag,’ and handed me an urban outfitters tote bag. he said ‘was that…did that come with like, a $30 purchase or something?’ i said ‘no, fuck, i don’t know’ kneeling by the fridge with the open door, focusing on not smelling the rotten watermelon. he said ‘i’m bringing this [bottle of whiskey], so we can have a toast, after we throw it. toast it after we throw it,’ and put the whiskey in a plastic bag. i said ‘yeah, yeah, good idea.’ i stood and held the bag. he said ‘what park should we take it to?’ we looked at each other. i said ‘penn treaty?’ he said ‘yeah, penn treaty, good. i’m feeling better already.’ i said ‘me too.’ 

he said ‘i’m not even bringing my keys, i’m not even…turning off the music, i’m not turning off the lights.’ i was grinning really big, trying not to smell the watermelon, moving fast, getting my keys. we left hurriedly. i thought for a minute we’d walk then he said ‘we’re taking the car, right?’ and i said ‘yeah, yeah, the car, yeah, fast.’ on the way there we decided to dump it in the water, like, throw it into the river. i said ‘maybe it will grow like, a thing. bounty. fortune.’ 

found a parking spot and walked towards the water with the watermelon bag and whiskey bag. pointed at a cloud and said ‘look, it looks pink.’ he said ‘yeah, it does.’ the lights looked really pretty to me, reminded me of a night in ohio with tao, when we did mushrooms before we were dating, walked along a beach by a city. i pointed at the bridge and said ‘i can’t believe the lights on it are really changing color, that’s really what…’ and he said ‘yeah, that’s what they did with that money.’ there was a group of people standing there, by the water. ex-boyfriend said ‘oh no’ and i said ‘no, they’re doing bad things too.’

i said ‘take a picture of me’ and he said ‘what is this, hipstermatic? wasn’t there a thing called that?’ i said ‘hipstamatic, yeah, i had that,’ climbing over rocks. there were more rocks than i thought there would be. i held the watermelon. there was confusion about whether the bag would be thrown as well. the bag was not to be used. i took it out of the bag and threw it. it made an ‘UFF’ sound. ex-boyfriend said ‘UFF’ like how rick ross says it, in a way we’ve referenced a lot, i think starting because of something victoria trott tweeted about how her dog sometimes makes an ‘UFF’ sound like rick ross.

investigated the watermelon. took another picture. ex-boyfriend poured whiskey into two ‘florida’ shot glasses and we drank them. i like, threw mine at my face, more than drank it. a lot of it went down the sides of my face. i was laughing. i said ‘i threw it in my mouth, it’s going down my face’ and ex-boyfriend said something and i said about 10% of it didn’t make it in my mouth. 

i said ‘we did it, it’s over,’ and ex-boyfriend said ‘it can be better now peg, see? see, now we can make other stuff for dinner: i’ll buy mushrooms and avocado, because lately when i’ve been making rice and beans i find it’s nice to have a bite of cooked vegetables and rice AND avocado’ and i was touching his arm and being like ‘yeah yeah!’ and jumping/jogging a little as we walked to the car.

first we went to the liquor store. someone had spilled something and they were mopping it up. i said ‘that would be a good game, ‘guess that smell of that alcohol,’’ and ex-boyfriend said it was white wine. i said ‘no, it’s one of those weird cupcake-y things, one of those things i always say i’m going to buy. i’m going to actually buy one of those things this time.’ he said ‘okay’ excitedly, kind of. i selected a bottle of something apparently brandless, with a beach graphic on the front, with a label that said ‘i’m coconuts for you.’ ex-boyfriend said he had tried it once at a tasting in the store and liked it. there was a long line.

went to grocery store. more funny stuff. 

came back to apartment. ex-boyfriend fixed dinner while i wrote most of this. ate dinner around 9:15PM.

10:18PM: can hear ex-boyfriend reading, drinking whiskey thing, sighing sometimes in bedroom. i’m in living room, which is a bedroom-sized area next to our bedroom. during dinner we listened to hall & oates and said things about the ‘i’m coconuts for you’ bottle. like, read everything on the bottle. the bottle seems insane. there is a lot more i feel like i want to be saying…a lot i’m leaving out…i don’t know. i’m downloading ‘the fighter.’ we have plans to watch ‘the fighter.’ 40,507 words.

shabbydollhouse:

I AM READY TO DIE A VIOLENT DEATH (LIVE)

by Heiko Julien

neatomosquitoaltlitfireworksshow:

Zachery Wood facebook statuses:

http://www.facebook.com/zacherywood?ref=ts&fref=ts

tphd:

WE ALL KNOW HOW WE GOT HERE: THE BRASH, NOISY CONCERT OF HUMAN NATURE

THE CONGRESS OF OUR MANY, HUNGRY FLAWS HOLDING HANDS

PUSHING US TO THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF

MAKING US DANCE

A REASONABLE, SOBER PERSPECTIVE IS THAT WE ARE LIKELY INSUFFICIENT TO RESIST OURSELVES

THAT WE OUGHT TO ACKNOWLEDGE…

popserial:

Heiko Julién, There Is No Reason for Tigers to Be Beautiful, They Just Are

incandescens:

i am mad at the ocean by heiko julien

everyone wants you to change
everyone is controlling
its fine

every night i die in my dreams
every morning i am reborn
it is exhausting

lk-shaw:

Heiko Julien is a musician, writer & poet. He is the host of the new poetry talk show, ‘Tubbin’ with Heiko’. He is the author of three e-books. He is turning facebook into an art-form. He has three new poems in the Shabby Doll House spring edition.

I am interested in his life and work, so I…

hologramrainbow:

Heiko Julien

thaisbenoit:

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| featuring the art work of Candy Chen Shuhui | 

| edited by thais benoit & heiko julien |

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