only took me a couple months to take my own advice. that's not bad, imho


i wanna leave you all with some parting words for a bit. i don't want the last thing i blogged to be sitting up there like it's how my life feels, because, though it's all true, it's not how my life feels, not overall, or in general, or right now, a day later

this is my fiftieth post, which is great. i'm glad to have worked through some stuff here on this blog, and i'm glad to have shared it with people, and i hope to come back here one day, feeling ready to share with people again

in an email, recently, i wrote, "i have a bad thing where my baseline is that i feel like people are out to get me, and so i'm paranoid and scared most of the time, and sometimes that manifests as dismissiveness or meanness, and i'm sorry if i've ever made you feel bad or weird because of that"—i want the world to know about that, i guess. it applies to the world

i'm not this miserable person i affect. this person was constructed and conditioned, by me and my environment. i can be a lot of different people, and i've been choosing to be miserable, so maybe now i'll choose to be happy

i think part of my unhappiness is due to a negative feedback loop that social media and society encourages. i feel aversion toward so many people, and it's not something i'm proud of. there are solutions to this, obviously. i'm going to try to seek them out, in different ways, i guess. i know about the thing where if you do the same thing multiple times, you set yourself up for the same results multiple times. i know about it, but i don't think about it enough. now that i've typed about it, here, i feel held accountable, by myself, which is good, since i'm the only person i really "need" to hang around with

i've screamed on the beach and listened to "positively 4th street" by bob dylan. i've let people rule the way i live my life, out of love, and hate and laziness and fear. my thoughts are the only thing i'm certain i have. it's like that adage, or idea, about how jews became such an educated people. because people can take everything away from you except what you hold in your head and your heart. i'm jewish. i don't want the world, but i get it. it's not like i can leave it and come back later. so i'll chill out here for a while

also i might start putting sugar in my coffee. because fuck it, i bet it tastes good


i think i meant to blog a few times, but i didn't. things have felt stable, mostly. i bought new sneakers. they're asics but look, like, cool, i guess. i've been wearing this thermal i bought upstate every day for a lot of days in a row

on friday, which was three days ago, i went to the lynne tillman book launch at the new museum. i talked with tao about 9/11, the singularity, mary robison, how to consume ketamine, how some artists stay relevant over the course of decades but most don't, how dck is bad for your gut, probiotics, raw eggs, etc. john waters was there. so was andrew durbin, and i also saw him the following night at china chalet. (i was a little dismissive of him on friday, because i felt overwhelmed, but on saturday, we had a nice time chit-chatting, i felt.) i talked to yuka a little bit, and mentioned my novel. she was talking about how lucy's novel needed to come out quickly, because it was relevant to the current moment or something, and i mentioned how since i wrote my novel, a deli that had existed on bushwick avenue, by montrose avenue, which i reference throughout the manuscript, changed its name, after like at least five years, though i think it was several more than that, of having the same name. i wondered if that was a faux pas, as she is one of the people my agent emailed the novel to, though i don't think she's read it yet

after the lynne tillman thing, i sat with emma and conor at beverly's and talked about how, for all intents and purposes, straight men do a thing where they're attracted to their female friends, and how some men are able to discuss that openly and directly, and other men make it a thing where they try to avoid acknowledging it, and then will suddenly make a move, after a long period of exclusive platonic-only interactions. i've done both of these things, and have hoped to move closer to being more direct, and also direct with myself in such a way that i can address and question this stuff on my own, coming to the best conclusion about how to keep friendships and romances appropriately separated, without making anyone uncomfortable... generally people just gravitate toward people they're attracted to, i think. but knowing how a relationship would work, how one might jeopardize a good friendship for a probably not ideal sexual encounter, how to let people in on what you're thinking and feeling, has helped me feel more relaxed, and better in general about interacting with people, specifically women

most men i feel like i can't stand to be around. and also just anyone who views relationships (the broader term, not referring to romantic) as transactional, or like, a form of social capital. all the time i find myself in a situation where it seems like someone "wants" "something" out of whatever exchange we're engaging in. like how can they leverage this exchange for future exchanges, and if we interact enough, does that qualify as friendship, and then how can my friendship benefit them... i can't be around people like that, and it seems like that's how so many young art-adjacent people view socializing, and that's why i hardly ever make new friends, and that's perfectly all right with me

another thing is, like, people who want their conversation to be a back and forth thing where nobody says what they're thinking or what they mean or why they're doing it like that. essentially "mind games," where the goal is to one-up one another, in order to, what? flirt? judge character? see how clever and funny one can convince someone else they are? i feel like i did do a lot of that when i was dating, in 2015-2016, and then realized it was so depressing, devastatingly manipulative and avoidant. since then, i've tried to focus on being forward, putting everything on the table, exercising a certain amount of "safe" vulnerability... a lot of folks seem extremely put off by this, and i think that's sad, but it's also a good litmus test for the type of people i want to be around. ultimately, it's kind of easy to find people who share my ideology and interests, because there are so few of them, weeding the fakes out is a breeze

also, an easy way to go about this without using any energy or thought, too, is to remember that if someone is living in ridgewood, and moved there within the past two years, they're probably one of the fakes

also, if you're reading this and you don't like me or what i've written, does that mean, as you continue to read through it, that you're indulging in negativity? and then, you might ask yourself, does this indulging in negativity somehow, like, "get you off" or enliven your spirit? if so, i think it would be good of you to change that, and to avoid this blog. i do stuff like that too sometimes, but you're worse than me, because this is so many more words than i'd ever look through to hate on someone

on saturday, i went to nada, which was very disappointing overall. i took notes on enjoying the work of four artists: jake manning (dream-like, representational, funny paintings, represented by rental gallery), zach martin (furniture made of stone and wicker and other things, represented by fisher parrish), alexandra bell (mike brown nytimes erasure piece, represented by recess gallery), brian kokoska (garfield and other funny sculptures and paintings in a carpeted kitchen-like space install, represented by l'inconnue). i also liked molly soda's install in the 315 gallery booth. i didn't take notes on this, because i remembered it on my own, and i know molly, or, i guess, maybe more accurately, "knew" her, or also, i don't know, we just haven't talked in a year. but i didn't, like, discover her work at nada. the other people's work i discovered

conor and zoe went to nada with me. there were lots of people who looked like they'd dressed up for the occasion. i just remembered there was someone else's work i also liked. some woman who did a, like, sort of stand-up video piece, but maybe i didn't like it all that much, because i didn't finish watching it or write anything down. i saw her, i think, later that night, at china chalet. after nada, zoe left, and conor and i went to gavin brown in the lower east side for jacolby satterwhite's opening. i really enjoyed the video, a lot more than the gift-shop-type space. i think the video is proof of a massive step forward in jacolby's work. it's not all that different from previous stuff, like the stuff i saw at the whitney a few years ago, but for some reason it feels more sure of itself, more cohesive, more centered, better animation, not like there's a narrative, but like there's a pulse, and a heart, holding everything together. it brought me joy, watching the video, and thinking about my brief interactions with jacolby in 2013 and 2014, and seeing where his career has taken him. i recommend the show to anyone reading this blog, even the haters

zachary and willis met conor and i at the opening, and then we ate a little at the punjabi deli on first street (at least i think that's first street). i had a small plate, with chickpeas and okra and other things over rice. then we went to weatherhead's book launch at parkside lounge for his new poetry collection 'todd.' at some point, i'd become convinced i had a fever, and made several people touch my forehead with the backs of their hands, and nobody could decide whether i felt warm or not, but eventually i started feeling better. i don't think i've typed about 'todd' much, but the book really makes me happy. i read it on march 1, sitting cab in a truck, while at work. i'd read most of the poems before, but i enjoyed reading it all together, and thinking about it as a series of, like, art projects/experiments. the final poem, which is a kind of collage, using lines from blurbs found on books in andrew's room, is astounding. i'll paste some of what i posted on facebook about it: "one of the weirdest, most exciting and inspiring collections of art and poetry i've ever encountered. when i was reading it, i felt transported to new patterns and modes of thought, blips of revelation, places i never would've traversed on my own. andrew's perspective is unique and remarkable, funny and poignant and rare. i'm glad we're friends." i know that's vague, but, like, i don't know what to write about the book other than that... it was surprising and satisfying. sort of blew my mind, and made me excited to think about weatherhead making art that way

at the parkside lounge, i took some mdma, and then conor and lily and i took a cab to china chalet. i used to go there a lot in 2015-2016, and i only went once in 2017 and didn't have a good time. i had a good time this time around, but was accosted by someone when she found out i had ketamine, which i was willing to share with my close friends, but not her, a person i've met a handful of times, who i have essentially no relationship with. i have no problem with her, but the following morning, she subtweeted me about our interaction, and i feel like i'll use this space here, on my blog, to address some of the inaccuracies and frustrations this tweet begot

so the tweet reads: "I had the misfortune of conversing w a like 22 yr old dude on uppers who titled his book 'cool girls hate their bodies' at china chalet ln"

first, i think "conversing" is such a generous term for when someone asks you for drugs and you say no. i think i'm entitled to simply not give someone something that belongs to me, and that i paid good money for, without creating a "misfortune" for her, but whatever. moving on. i'm not 22, i'm 27, and this woman is 30, so it feels a little bleak that she's doing the thing where our slight age difference is used against me somehow, though i will say, i'm happy to be in my late-twenties, and not my thirties. makes me feel a bit less stressed out, so i'm not particularly irked by that. also, i don't have a "book" i have a novel manuscript, which i've been shopping around for over five months, and which may never be published, i've come to terms with. so, it's very flattering to say i've written a book, but it's not accurate. finally, the title 'cool girls hate their bodies' is not current. that has not been the working title in quite some time, and it's not the title my agent is selling the novel under. in any case, i know that the person who tweeted this was only doing it because she was hurting about something else that has to do with a friend of mine, who had a short-lived romantic thing with her, and then decided he didn't want to do that anymore, and i know what it's like to hurt and to feel like lashing out at people online is the solution, and so, ultimately, i just want the best for this person. i hope she is able to feel better and not feel like she has to get upset when someone doesn't give her drugs, but gives other people drugs, because he has different relationships with those people

juliana huxtable djed from one a.m. until after three a.m. she did a great job, and i danced for maybe an hour, which felt nice. i hadn't danced to music i like in club in a long time, and it felt a little stilted at first, but i was able to let go and enjoy it, and mostly the experience was nostalgia-driven. daylight savings time started on sunday morning, when the clocks went from 1:59 to 3:00, and so, in a way, it was supposed to be the shortest china chalet ever, but then they didn't kick everyone out at three, so i was sort of bummed by that. i took the n-train home and took a shower around five a.m., and went to sleep shortly thereafter

yesterday, which was sunday, i met up with katie and we talked about all the stuff i just typed about at b&h dairy on second avenue, over coffee and potato pancakes and pierogis and matzah ball soup and challah and a stuffed cabbage. we walked to east village books and through tompkins square park and sat for a while in hamilton fish park. we went to reena spaulings and looked at the amelie von wulffen show, which i loved. i'd seen pictures on instagram and felt no interest, but in person the show was very satisfying. katie and i got little comic books the artist had written and illustrated titled 'the boulders.' i drove katie to prospect heights and dropped her off at the sheila heti/chris kraus reading/talk. i felt endeared to her, and in general. we're going to see bunny rogers and precious okoyomon read tomorrow, and to eat at spain, i hope

driving east on the belt parkway, on my way home last night, i saw a cluster of bats, flapping wildly, flying along the water separating brooklyn from staten island, low on the horizon, which was milky twilight, blue and yellow


my grandpa died before i could go see him. originally i typed "go and see him." i like that kind of colloquial speech, but i suppose it has no place in writing, even in blogging, i feel

he died on saturday, which was four days ago. my dad said my grandpa didn't take any pain medication. he went relatively quickly, due to kidney failure. from the time he got the flu until he died was eight days, i think

i drove to see my parents. their house is different. a realtor has prepared it for selling. a lot of its charm is gone, though my parents don't have a particularly keen eye for design

my dad said when his mom died last year, she was administered doses of fentanyl to deal with the pain

david and andrew both died, in 2015 and 2017, respectively, having ingested fentanyl, unwittingly. david thought it was heroin. andrew thought it was xanax

my parents gave me a lamp that had belonged to my grandpa. a client had sent it to him, i think. in 2016, my dad and i went to florida and moved my grandpa out of the house he'd lived in for thirty-ish years. it was a mess, utterly disgusting. we filled an enormous dumpster with trash, and it rained on the trash, because we were in sarasota in august. i was ill at health and breathed in a lot of unideal particles. we also gave a lot of stuff to goodwill, and had a salvation army truck come take other things, and then we also filled a storage unit with so much stuff that my grandpa claimed to want to keep, when my dad went back to open it the next day, items had, like, shifted, and he couldn't get the door to open

my grandpa also left a powder blue toyota camry in florida when he moved in with my parents. when his ex-wife, my grandma, died last year, my cousin, who'd graduated from college the day before, knowing she was going to die soon, and wanting to get to the nursing home (or did she die in a separate hospital) before she went, drove recklessly from massachusetts to connecticut, totaling his car in the process. later, he went to florida to get the camry as a replacement vehicle

my grandpa was still working when he got the flu, almost two weeks ago. he was a tax consultant, so i can't help thinking about all the people whose taxes he hadn't finished. they're going to be not feeling great, probably. that's got to be a confusing state to be in, and an extremely rare predicament... your private tax consultant dies in late february, having not filed your taxes... it's uncanny. but i guess that's what you get for employing an ailing eighty-seven year old man

in 2008, my grandpa and i drove to nova scotia together. he wanted to go alone, i think. he often traveled alone, to nature spots like that, to take photos and enjoy himself. he couldn't do the drive, though. his back wasn't good, and visibility in an unfamiliar place, over the steering, for instance, posed a basically deadly peril. so i went with him. we were gone for ten or so days, and we shared a few hotel rooms during that time. mostly we had separate rooms, but when we didn't, i saw him with his shirt off, and listened to him breathe and snore. it was uncomfortable, but i feel grateful anyway. we ate lobsters that weren't that good. it was august, also, then, and cold and a little rainy. i remember being in a barn-like restaurant, staying at a bed and breakfast in a very rural area. that was fun. i tried keeping a journal, i'd just recently fallen in love. there were mosquitoes at one of the lighthouses my grandpa wanted to photograph, and they got in the car just in the time he opened the doors. he couldn't get any pictures, there were just so many mosquitos. i was not discouraged from drinking beer, even though i was seventeen years old. i remember drinking a white russian, alone in a hotel lounge one night, kind of late, for some reason. we enjoyed listening to django reinhardt music together, and he hated the animal collective and radiohead stuff i played. most days were just spent driving. the roads were hardly highways. it just took a long time to get from one place to the next. on these drives, my grandpa talked a little about his time as a merchant marine. he mentioned a girl he'd met somewhere in south america along the coast, or whatever, and that the next time they were in port there, several months later, they met up and she was pregnant, and insisted it wasn't his, but he didn't seem so sure. he talked about how impregnating my grandma when she was nineteen and he was in his early twenties set his life off course and he couldn't become a journalist. one timeh he asked me to get him something out of his suitcase and i found a thing of condoms and viagra. it was funny to imagine how he possibly thought those things would come in handy, but i guess he figured it was better to be prepared

it seems my dad still uses condoms when he has sex with my mom. i remember finding used ones under the bed, even as old as i was a teenager. just on this past trip, i saw an opened wrapper at the top of a trashcan, just as it appears in a scene in my novel. but my mom can't get pregnant now. and they could've used other birth control methods, after almost forty years of marriage, why stick to the most uncomfortable (and now, menopause-ally obsolete) one? i have some theories as to why, but i don't care to type about them here

my grandpa married three times, and he owned many cats and dogs and birds over the years. i was at his house a couple times around the early 2000s. there was an unfriendly dog on the street when i tried out my skateboard in some december in the late nineties. there were alligators, and he lived in a swamp-like environment. he took my sister and i to busch gardens. there's a picture of me with a yellow boa constrictor draped around my neck somewhere, if memory serves

he was pretty reserved and opinionated and very bright. he never lost his faculties. i always felt like i understood him. i never felt like i had to investigate why he was so isolated for so long. when i told my dad this, he seemed surprised. he said he asked himself a lot of questions about that kind of thing


am i freak? i thought "i'm walking from the bed to the kitchen to type this" while getting up off the bed, where i'd been reading, to, along with my laptop, um, type here, about this, about that thought, here, on my blog

i haven't left my apartment since saturday, which was six days ago, except to buy groceries on tuesday, and to move the car, yesterday, from one side of the street to the other, for street cleaning. i haven't talked in, hm, probably close to forty-eight hours. but that's not so bad, in the grand scheme of things

on sunday, i fielded a cascade of phone calls. first, zachary called to ask a question about colv, and to just chat for a second. then, my mother called. it seems like my grandpa might be dying. it's hard to say. he might not have had a stroke after all, for instance, and now he has the flu and is going on dialysis. i hope he's doing okay. my mother suggested i make some time to visit, but not until after he's more stable, which might not happen. gah. i don't know. i'm only not sadder because he's very old (eighty-seven years) and has lived a full life, in several states, with several different jobs and three marriages, and a lot of good stuff. it seems like living with my parents after being in florida for like forty years has been weird for him. maybe i'm projecting. one of my parents walked in on him masturbating, within the first month of their living together, two augusts ago. i just hope for everyone's sake everything goes smoothly and there's no suffering and my parents can relax some. we also talked about holistic medicine and a balanced diet and the immune system and stuff. i've had a lymph node swell up beneath my left armpit, near my pec. the doctor said it was fine. blah. then, while i was talking to my mother about trying to sell my novel, katie called, and we talked for a while. then i got off the phone with her, and i called conor, and he came over to my apartment, and while i was waiting for him, i called katie and we talked more. what a day on the phone that way. i'd planned to read fifty pages of 'morgan's passing' (1980) by anne tyler, and i only ended up reading twenty

um... then on monday evening, after conor had gone home, i texted him to ask if he was feeling sick, and the next morning i woke up feeling sick. that's why i went grocery shopping. i needed provisions to prepare for hunkering down in solitude for the next few days, feeling sick, which is what i've been doing

since monday, i finished 'morgan's passing' and 'dinner at the homesick restaurant' (1982) by anne tyler, and started 'the accidental tourist' (1985) by anne tyler. on sunday evening, conor and i split a half pan of pizza from l&b spumoni gardens and rewatched the finale episode of 'twin peaks: the return.' or no, wait. we watched that the day before, on saturday, after snorting a bunch of ketamine (although we're a little uncertain as to whether it really is ketamine, as it doesn't feel as uplifting or intense, in general)... so what did we... oh yeah, we watched regular 'twin peaks' starting from the beginning, and then maybe switched over to 'frasier' after a while. also, i don't think the new series is officially called 'twin peaks: the return' i think maybe it's just referred to as the third season of 'twin peaks.' thank you

i was stoned that night. i've been stoned every night since saturday night, i think. i've written thirteen thousand new, workable words in a google doc since mid-january. it's around fifty pages double-spaced. the writing feels like a natural, like, "building off" of the style used in my first novel, but it's weirder, attempting to maintain an eerie, uncanny, horror movie-esqe tone throughout, in addition to the tone my previous, maybe slightly more established writing takes. this work is, like, moving my, like, repertoire in a new direction. more experimental, but with commercial concerns: the ideas of genre, audience manipulation, thriller tactics, etc. i feel currently influenced by the work of frederick barthelme, stephen king, david lynch, roald dahl, bret easton ellis, joy williams, 'the wicker man' (1973), tao lin ('trip' (2018) and 'bed' (2007), particularly), the election, dave chappelle, vegetarianism, and the psychedelic experience. bummed out there aren't more women on that list... i'm trying to be honest... maybe donna tartt... god, i feel like i suck

anyway... i hated the new alex ross perry movie 'golden exits' (2018). or did it come out last year, i don't care. i texted john: "golden exits was trash[.] the scene where ad rock might rape the aussie girl was very good, tense, emotional, finger on the pulse of america[,] but that was like 6 minutes in a flurry of 90 minutes of stilted, unrealistic conversations, and unearned 'emotional releases'"

i don't want to talk about it anymore, but, like, i'm trying to save you money here. i watched it online, so i'm safe. hm... john is getting me a box of a kind of pretzels i like. he's a very good guy. one of my favorite people, objectively

i like to eat those pretzels with a piece of lindt chocolate in my mouth already, for the record

might have had more stuff to type, and i will later if i feel like it. i've had this cold. goodbye!


feel less interested in blogging recently, because i've been working on a piece of writing that is getting longer and picking up momentum, albeit every so slightly

i was typing about the beach earlier, remembering the summer in 2016. i described what i'm working on to katie as "everything is just very lighthearted and damning. it’s a horror novel about regular life, with some supernatural elements." i have only 7000 words right now, but they're coming relatively easily and quickly

i've been drinking coffee. i feel very caffeinated and good. my eye has been twitching regularly for the past few days. there's a lot i want to get done today, but i showered yesterday so i don't have to worry about showering

at the food coop, they charged me for forty-three bottles of seltzer water instead of four. i need to address that in person at some point in the near future. also, they stopped carrying the tea tree oil variety of dr. bronner's castile soap. they have the eucalyptus variety in its place. i paged to ask about this over the loudspeaker, and someone replied that they decided to not have tea tree oil soap anymore because of this eucalyptus one. i googled it, and though the two are similar, eucalyptus oil has less powerful healing and anti-viral and other interesting and exciting properties, which first drew me to tea tree oil. sort of makes me feel bad for complaining here about how the soap doesn't smell as good as it used to, a few months back. i got used to the smell. the eucalyptus variety smells better, but it doesn't seem worth it, if it's not as good for your skin and general health. i'm a mad dog

i've been reading 'double down: reflections on gambling and loss' (1999) by frederick barthelme and steven barthelme. i like it a lot. i liked 'the brothers' (1993) by frederick barthelme more than 'painted desert' (1995). the two books have a lot of the same characters, but 'the brothers' is written in the third person, and 'painted desert' is written in the first person, narrated by the character del. that i didn't like 'painted desert' more struck me as strange, since i almost always prefer first person writing to third person writing, especially and specifically in frederick barthelme's work. i don't know. they're both good books. just something worth noting

upstate there were so many frederick barthelme books at used bookstores and thrift stores. i thought that meant people liked fredreick barthelme more upstate, but it actually might mean that people dislike frederick barthelme more upstate, and are more willing to get rid of his books. maybe people love frederick barthelme in new york city and are less inclined to want to give up his books to thrift- or used bookstores

anyway, i found a softcover copy of 'natural selection' (1991) and traded it to katie for her hardcover, first edition copy of the same title (we actually found that copy together, and split the cost, but, since we didn't cohabitate, and acknowledged that one of us would inevitably have to take full custody of the book, we flipped a coin for it, and katie won (calling heads, if i recall correctly)), because she prefers paperback books. we've had our problems, but it'd be hard to deny that's a nice complimentary quality we have between us. she'll take the paperback books, i'll take the hardcover. like somebody eating the pancakes and somebody else eating the bacon, though in that case neither of us eat meat, so it'd pose a different problem, unrelated to books

that said, i found four frederick barthelme books in thrift stores around the catskills, plus the novel 'why did i ever' (2001) by mary robison. then, i ordered three mary robison books ('oh!' (1981), 'an amatuer's guide to the night' (1983) and 'believe them' (1988)) off amazon, as there aren't any copies available for check out from the new york or brooklyn public libraries. this was on sunday that i ordered them. then, i started reading 'double down' on monday, which was yesterday, and mary robison is talked about in that book, as a friend and fellow gambler of the barthelme brothers. i really had no idea. it was a delightful coincidence, one that made me trust in life

(maybe it's worth mentioning that i already owned 'days' (1979), which is a book gordon lish published, supposedly not significantly changing the stories, which, it's been written, may have actually influenced some of the minimalist tendencies he later became famous for, rather than were influenced by the editor's formidable proclivities. rumor has it, though, that he did take a bigger role in editing robison's work for knopf, following 'days,' but i didn't order 'days' off amazon, because i already had two summers ago. i'd read it in fire island, traveling with zoe's mother under the pretense of talking about my own novel, which i'd then recently finished a first draft of and had had her look at to give me publishing and other career advice)

now i sort of have a stomachache from the coffee. conor's coming over later, and i want to accomplish a few more things before he does, so i'll focus on that now. goodbye


i'm somewhat appalled to find myself in my late twenties more alienated and regimented in my neuroses than ever. i'm also more accepting, forgiving and kind, i feel, which is good. the world is just entropy. my ability to control the things that affect me is wildly limited. i accept being alone. i accept futility. i resent some people i see when i leave the house. i have hate in my heart for rotten, misguided people. maybe i don't... not sure what i mean

my parents must really think i'm some kind of a piece of shit, they didn't tell me my grandfather, who lives with them, had a stroke a few weeks ago until i inquired about visiting them sometime in the coming weeks

i have too much time off work. i'm going to start going to yoga, i think

zoe gave me three miniature green tea kit-kats from japan. i might try to meet her in the city and sit at a computer next to her and work on writing. i feel inspired, in my otherwise helplessness, in writing. i have been working on something new. it feels filled with possibility, like life sometimes does. i slept three hours last night, and i feel bleak

twelve days ago, which was a monday, i wrote about this. about not sleeping. i took a nap at katie's, and i usually can't nap, and i was, um, a little brooding afterwards. i keep feeling convinced the world will end before i go broke. human history will have entirely merged with some other form of deep time, or a new technological non-history. it doesn't matter that i think like this. every week there's something new wrong with my car. i spent $140 fixing a thermostat thing, i'm not sure what it was. my mechanic said he flushed my anti-freeze, which i don't, if i'm being honest with myself, truly understand... what that is...

katie got on a plane today, but i didn't bring her to the airport this time. five days ago, which was tuesday, we went upstate, around the catskills, and stayed in a cabin together. we went to several thrift stores. the ones i can remember were the tibetan center in kingston, half moon books in kingston, c.o.r.e. values in stamford, roxbury library in roxbury, margaretville memorial thrift in margaretville, castaways in the woods in woodstock and also a community center off one those little highways, maybe, um... i want to say, like "30"(?), that had closed fifteen minutes before we got there, so we couldn't go inside. there was what appeared to be an abandoned artist's studio nearby. we got out of the car, and katie took pictures. we stopped at a farm stand and bought horrible food, and the guy, vinny, had pet turkeys. i felt so happy, just driving around, listening to music, though i never felt particularly focused on the music. i felt focused on the happiness. i felt fairly present in the experience, like it was going to go away from me, and we walked outside an abandoned church and tried to find a place where they sold beagle puppies and looked at miniature horses, and katie jumped up and down, she said seeing the miniature horses would be enough to keep her feeling good for days. on the drive back into the city, we ran into horrible traffic and listened to "pretty girl" by clairo, and we made animal noises, first cat noises, later dog ones, to entertain ourselves and each other, and in the morning i dropped katie off at her apartment, and i felt like for the first time i could really not be in denial about things being different, about our relationship being over, not wanting to acknowledge this change, but being required to, maybe cosmically, or at least by my own self-awareness. i later described it as, like, "chapter six of my life ending," pointlessly i described it like this, and yesterday we ate soup and stuffed cabbage, and today she left new york again. and she'll be back, and i just want to be kind, but i know the world is always changing, and i just want to accept it

in the cabin i had trouble setting a fire in the wood burning stove, but then i got the fire going and it felt so nice. we drank wine and smoked weed. katie gave me her weed last night. it's called "gorilla glue." the kind i already had is called "deadhead og." i'm going to eat an edible later and try to vanish into myself. i want to empty myself of expectation. i want to lean into the universe and let it do its thing. we watched 'sin city' (2005) and i dreamed that we witnessed a coverup of some kind of major crime from the window of the cabin and were discovered witnessing it and that the cabin burned down and other terrible things, and we drank coffee in the morning and spoke candidly and i felt so lucky to know someone i could talk to like that, even though the subject matter was confusing, sometimes painful. i no longer carry around the anger that plagued me for decades. my eye is twitching. the mountains were covered in glassy sheets of ice

while we were driving, katie said "your car sounds good" and "it's got a nice hum" or something like that. within thirty seconds of her saying that, though, the "service engine soon" light came on. this had never happened before. it was staggering... and we laughed and talked about it, and i felt haunted

i got drunk last night. being around people is sort of poisonous. why do so many people seem committed to lacking self-awareness? when i ask questions like that, i feel like i'm "trying it out," trying out what it's like to ask a meaningless, unanswerable question. i feel like what i'm attempting to consider is along the lines of how people talk about "getting lost" in their thoughts, rather than taking the time and interest to examine and analyze them. i do love my friends. they're wonderful. conor had me sleep on the couch, and we ate sandwiches and he put on "mood" by lil uzi vert for me around four or five o'clock, but, in general, i had a great difficulty socializing. there were all these familiar, ideologically unfriendly faces at the bar we were at, earlier. people who go around to be around other people. i wanted to wish lily a happy birthday. i've known her almost four years, which i remembered last night and found surprising

i'm lovesick. it's okay. it doesn't bother me. i want to sleep for twelve or fifteen hours. i wish i liked baths more. i wish there was a shower in the warehouse i sometimes work out of in greenpoint, so i could shower there after doing yoga, maybe. i want to drink kombucha. i love fermented things. i think cannabis has immuno-therapeutic properties, because i get sick less than i ever used to, and i consume more cannabis than i ever used to, but the two might be unrelated

i never want to stop typing here. i never want to betray my heart. i want to be guided by the things i instinctually trust. i don't trust almost anyone. it's getting more and more obvious that i don't want to burden people with my troubles, but that i depend on people. certain people. i'm like that too. i'm a person, like everyone else, but i don't want to live dishonestly, for any reason. i have nothing to gain from doing anything other than trusting my emotions

the other day i tweeted "i'd die for someone like not take a bullet but fill out a lot of paperwork and be euthanized for someone i love" and i think it's true. i'm worried about the next sixty years. not societally, but for myself. what will i fill my time with? i can't do drugs and putz around forever. but i guess life isn't forever anyway. i can't assume there'll be anyone to save me. there isn't intervention. i spoke in cliches with katie all week, accidentally. i understand 'blonde' (2016) by frank ocean in a way i never did before. i understand it more every time i listen to it. i drive around in my car crying. i feel richer and denser than i did a year ago. i've learned a lot. i've changed a little bit. i'm maybe more mature. i made mistakes, and i'm trying to address them. i haven't lied almost at all in a very long time. sometimes i find myself wanting to apologize to people when i haven't done anything wrong

i went over to zachary's and we watched deleted scenes from 'the office' and i was confused. i was on ketamine and convinced that we were actually in my apartment, and that zachary was playing a joke on me, somehow. we talked about four years ago, and times before and after that. i referenced something as it was like we were "drunk tv" like that's what our life together had been. i feel comfortable talking to zachary one-on-one like that. i feel nervous about really finding out what it is to be alone. zachary was excited i'd gone upstate, and earlier that day, which was two days ago, which was thursday, the airbnb people from the cabin messaged me something about how i "still" hadn't responded to them about a missing brown comforter and they'd have to charge me a compensation fee, but they'd never mentioned this comforter before, and there hadn't been a brown comforter in the cabin, and i explained it to them and wrote "this is stressing me out" in the message and they said they believed me. i felt incredibly offended that they would think i would want to steal or have anything to do with a brown comforter

and a week before katie and i went upstate, i went to the dentist. i don't have dental insurance, so i'd purchased a voucher from groupon to pay for the cleaning. at the office they explained i had to get x-rays because i was a first time patient, and when i told them i didn't want x-rays they told me i didn't have a choice, if i wanted the cleaning, and because i was already out the $35 from the voucher, i reluctantly agreed, and they gave me eighteen x-rays, which is fourteen more than i've ever gotten on a single day for a dental exam before, and i argued with them and wanted to cry i felt manipulated and now i hope i don't get cancer, and i'm considering not going back to any dentist again

i don't know what to do. i'm in control of how i interact with other people, animals, things, and how i interact with myself. i don't want to take a shower, but i might feel better if i do. i make a lot of jokes, or like, speak lightheartedly, or in a humor-oriented way, when i'm around people, but i don't know if i think the world is funny, really. it's devastating and beautiful, being alive. i'll just keep being alive. we watched 'gilmore girls' and ate cake and moved stuff around from the living room into the kitchen, and i knew my life was going to keep changing, and i didn't know what to do

notes taken while on lsd, 1/26/18