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


i kind of miss that band diiv. they really felt like something to me... i guess they're still a band. they put out an album two years ago. it was around this time, actually. maybe february... i remember buying the lp in boston, before having heard it, i think... i remember something like that. maybe it just hadn't been officially released yet and i bought the lp because the record store had received its shipment early. i also bought a green sweater that day, if i'm not mixing up my days. either way, the sweater i'm thinking of moths later ate and i threw it away before moving to coney island

'night time, my time' is a great name for an album. i wrote that down a few nights ago. i mean i typed it in the notes app on my phone. then, a few days after that, i saw the 'twin peaks' with sky ferreira in it. i don't really like her music, but that's a good name for an album

those are two of the notes i took over the past week. i took one more, but it's too maudlin to copy and paste here, i feel. i typed it in the middle of the night, feeling bad, i suppose. hard to remember how it feels to feel that bad, when i'm feeling good, as i am, currently, right now

katie mentioned i hadn't blogged in a while. i typed some things in google docs earlier this week, like outlines or ideas for a new novel, maybe. for some reason, for a while, probably coming up on a year, i've felt like in order to write something new i need to go to biloxi, mississippi. like that something is waiting for me there, some divine inspiration or experience or intervention. i don't know

there's a hole in the driver's side part of my car, near the door, but under it, just above the floor or bottom of the car, it rusted through. it's flaky and bleak, but i like it, and a second hole is forming beside it. my mechanic wants me to fill it with foam spray, which he says i can buy at the home depot for six dollars

feel like what i'm typing is boring. i woke up at two-thirty a.m. the other morning and stayed awake for the rest of the day. i ended up getting really upset, i think from not sleeping. been sleeping okay, but really enjoying the taste of coffee. i have some brewing in my fridge for later... for tomorrow, in the morning. i might take lsd

i've been reading 'the brothers' (1993) by frederick barthelme. i like it as much as 'natural selection' (1990), potentially. actually probably not as much, because it's not as emotional, at least yet

zachary sent me a list of thrift stores to go to near the catskills, where katie and i discussed maybe hanging out for a night next week. i picked her up at the airport eight days ago, which was two wednesdays ago, or maybe "last wednesday," i'm not sure. don't want to think about that too much, so i discourage you from fixating and/or commenting on it. you know what day i mean. later she said "what's your stuffed animal's middle name," which i thought was charming

other than that, jordan came to town. we drank coffee and ate chinese food. liquor town inc. in lefferts gardens ran out of calendars, so when i dropped off weatherhead, i didn't get anything in return for that. i really wanted a calendar from liquor town inc. i have 2015, 2016 and 2017 calendars they made. i feel like i "blew it big time" not prioritizing getting a 2018 calendar more. i tried googling it, but it doesn't seem like anyone has posted anything on the internet about how this liquor store on flatbush avenue makes calendars every year... would be so weird to find it on ebay, but i'd like to try to look for it. i don't know when they started making calendars, or if they even made them this year, i guess... earlier, i thought i was gonna definitely go early next year and get a 2019 calendar, but i don't know. would it matter? if you're missing one of the pieces, is it worth it... is it, like, a part of "caring" or something else

i've been feeling and hearing the vibrations of my body more, while stoned, recently. feel like i'm more present or aware of my body and brain than i have been in the past, like i'm focusing on the experience of being stoned rather than passively indulging in it

my cat is purring. did i already write about how conor said that's not necessarily about love, it's just a "companion sound" etc.? if so, sorry for repeating myself. i've been thinking about that a lot lately


driving home, i kept passing cars, doing the speed limit. i was doing the speed limit, and i kept passing cars. from all three lanes, i was doing this: passing cars. why was that? why was that happening?

i was listening to miracle nutrition with hearty white on wfmu. i highly recommend doing that, regardless of traffic patterns


i feel like there's a difference between "ok" and "okay" but i don't want to look it up. i looked up the correct way to use "et al." earlier. more nuanced than i thought... ok


my friend john has me hooked on these anchovies from spain. they come cold packed in oil and vinegar... thought i'd have more to say about this... they're matiz espaƱa brand white anchovies

i also wanted to address something my friend conor said to me earlier in the day. he said the white stuff that comes out of zits is clumps of white blood cells fighting the infection. some stuff i've read online supports this... just seems so ridiculous. like, what? white blood cells are literally white? and you can see them? other stuff says it's dead skin cells and sebum and stuff... this is gross, i'm done typing about this

still eating these anchovies, though. my cat wants to eat them, it seems. she ate some of my ikea creamed smoked roe, out of the cap. that was bad of her, it's hard to clean caps

had a great time talking on the phone with my friend willis earlier. we also texted about the singularity at one point. we talked on the phone about personal stuff, and also, like, people who are employed as artists... or... "creative types," like people getting paid to write "content," for instance. we just talked about that kind of person for a moment... talking about physical spaces playing less a role in society and our lives

i ate deadhead og. i've been reading 'fire and fury.' it's pretty entertaining. sort of nothing you didn't know repackaged in a digestible "fuck you" to yourself for reading it

i looked at pitchfork. they had a profile on this musician called clairo. she has a nice song called "pretty girl." reminds me of music from 2010, sort of simple electronic indie with an easy-to-listen-to manner of speaking/singing, like twin sister, before they changed their name to mr. twin sister. i met one of their touring guitarists in austin, texas in 2016, and he sucked!

clairo is cool. we're of a different generation. she seems to really "get" youtube culture, and being online, in a way that i never fully absorbed, having lived for eleven years before my parents got a dial-up internet server, after which i started transitioning toward a more online-oriented existence

i feel better after a few days relaxing. my head feels normal. i feel positive, and suspicious of that

for the past few weeks i've been feeling like people are "out to get me." i got some text messages from a person i don't really know that seemed more like an attempt to troll me, or set me up, or something, than an unorthodox, friendly interaction. i misinterpreted an email from willis as threatening or accusatory. i kept implying that katie's tone was off, via text message, while i had a head injury, convinced she was mad at me, for reasons beyond my understanding. basically that other people are also out to get me... if you are, please refrain from acting. i don't want to be got

clairo reminds me of a cool person i hung out with a few times in 2016. i didn't really like her like that, but she was cool, and i feel bad about how we weren't able to transition from that to friendship, but there was too much shittiness and uncertainty in my life, i didn't encourage us to be friends, even though that could've been cool, had we tried. she sent me some emails that didn't paint me in so good a light, a few months later. anyway, yeah. i'm sorry that happened, person, you were cool. i should've handled things differently. she was the same age then as clairo is now, i guess... what do they call them after millennials? am i wrong? are they millennials? i shout them out. i feel like they have a closer relationship to the culture than i do... i want to get back in touch with that culture

um... soundcloud rap... miles says he lives near tekashi 6ix9ine. i think that guy's music is really bad, but his online presence is compelling. he has a well-curated persona and fashion and stuff. it's cool how he takes his shirt off a lot but doesn't have a good body. he has dad bod, but he's twenty, i think. there were allegations that he had sex with a minor? it's very unclear what to make of that... hoping it's just bad rumors, but if it's real, i'll have to rethink consuming the brand of tekashi 6ix9ine

person who was at conor's apartment told a cool story about chastising kids for being bad, in florida. i've been using the word "cool" a lot today, i feel. there were so many people just out and about this afternoon who seemed in awe of my not having interest in or sympathy toward their having children. but after she told the story, we sort of talked about aziz ansari stuff, then she commented, to someone else, that "men can't talk [constructively, or some other word like that] about consent"... felt like she was right. anyway, aziz has always seemed half-baked, wishy washy. i could always sense he had no moral compass. i can think of... no, never mind. this isn't a pissing contest. even that kind of language is problematic... just trying to stay with the culture, damn. lily said she's obsessed with the aziz story. she led me down some thought paths i might not have gone down before...

i don't know. feel like i always do that. type "i don't know" to non sequitur a new thing

last night i ate too many fruit loops. i woke up with a stomach ache. today, at work, the teamster i was working with expressed some reservations about trump, but then said that hillary would've been worse. i asked him why he thought that. (it had been in response to my saying that had she been elected, our government would've been stalled, instead of engaging in trump policy.) he said it's better to be doing something rather than nothing, even if the something wasn't good. he said he thought that the rest of the world wouldn't respect us if our government was constantly at ends with itself and couldn't get anything done. i said i think it would be better if daca hadn't been repealed, and nothing happened, than what happened under trump. he said "yeah... i don't know... we agree on a lot of stuff, dave. we agree on most stuff" or something like that

generally, though, i liked him. he recommended against having kids and said when you reach the age of thirty-nine, you can really tell what you care about and probably will start caring less about everything. he agreed with me about some thoughts i had about technology and the future, but he cited 'star wars' in a weird way. later he said if he'd stayed in school he would've studied broadcast journalism


i feel weakly, mildly not-sane

two nights ago, which was friday, i hit my head on a stairwell ceiling, recklessly making my way down the stairs night at gottscheer hall in ridgewood, queens

since then, my tone has felt distinctly "off"

i'm having difficulty communicating with people. everything feels antagonistic, from both sides. haven't really had a point in communicating, so i haven't been able to get my "point" across, because i don't know what it is

i feel worried...

i went back to work last week, which felt good

most stuff felt good for several days in a row leading up until right before i hit my head, then everything felt remarkably without humor, bleak

i don't know about using adverbs

i'm trying it out in a couple of these sentences

i feel envious of people. by the time i finished typing that sentence, i knew it wasn't true. i wouldn't want anyone else's life

this is the fourth time i've had a concussion, i think. the first time was in second grade, i think. it might not have been a concussion, but i got two black eyes. the second time was senior or junior year of high school, in gym class. the third time was in the summer of 2013, when i was somewhat playfully tackled on a rooftop and continued drinking heavily for the following several hours. after that, i felt significantly and sustainably brain-damaged. i got multiple mris, which provided me with vague, inconclusive information, because they were a part of volunteer studies, and so read and analyzed by one of my girlfriend at the time's colleagues, who i gave a copy of the images (saved on a cd), and who didn't seem concerned or particularly professional. my thought was, if i had a gross aberration, the mri technician would've reported it to me, or someone else, and they would've told me i needed to seek help re a neurological condition, or something

since 2015, i've felt less brain-damaged. now i feel brain-damaged again. it doesn't matter

seems hard to find the "balance" in feeling that i pretend to aspire toward

i feel humorless and tone-deaf

i'm worried about this blog post. i don't want to write anymore


since i originally made this blog post, i thought about 'trip' (2018) by tao lin. i finished reading it last night. i enjoyed it a lot

here is some of what i emailed the author re my reaction:
i really enjoyed this style of nonfiction. the way you intermingled personal experience with research and journalistic investigation felt seamless and innovative. and the way you went about introducing new information, and then building and elaborating on that information, continuously, throughout the text, was super effective. unlike a lot of nonfiction i've encountered, which presents itself as an assortment of facts set up to prove something similar to a "point," 'trip' felt like an accumulation and augmentation of knowledge, almost suspenseful in its execution at times. it consistently kept my attention, even re things i wouldn't normally be interested in, and i felt a steady, increasing desire to keep reading, in the manner i typically feel toward a story or novel narrative 
though it affirmed some beliefs i already held toward psychedelics, what i especially loved about the book was that it took me to new places and modes of thought i'm not sure i ever would've explored without it. the extraterrestrial associations re psilocybin and dmt were particularly exciting and unlike anything i'd ever considered before. speculations about pre-historical human health, religion and the evolution of intelligence were also compelling and made me extremely curious about the potential for evolutionary or longterm (or retroactive) studies on the use of psychedelics. also, the things about the eleusinian mysteries—i can't believe i hadn't heard about that, and its connections to lsd, before! and the discussion of the imagination as the greatest unknown, larger than the universe in that it can hold all possible universes, was extremely uplifting, inspiring. the book makes me want to be more responsible and focused on my use of psychedelics, and has discouraged me from wasting precious time while stoned engaging in inane or passively lazy or depression-related activities 
two nights ago, i sustained what i think was a minor concussion, hitting my head on a stairwell ceiling, recklessly making my way down the stairs at gottscheer hall in ridgewood, queens. i woke yesterday morning feeling nauseated and dazed, and since then, i've been treating myself with cannabis. its anti-inflammatory and neuroprotective properties, according to some things i've read online, suggest it might be the most effective and overlooked minor head trauma treatment available, and can even heal damaged brain tissue. i woke today feeling significantly less out-of-it, though i'm still a little nauseated. i'm going to eat another edible in a few minutes and plan to go to sleep early
i used the word "extremely" more than i would've wanted, i guess

going to read some of 'fire and fury' (2018) by michael wolff now. going to try to remember that parts of it are probably fabricated and/or distorted, as i've been made vaguely aware of by media, which probably has the worst intentions toward the concept of "truth" anyway, in order to sensationalize, and antagonize the president...

not that i don't hate trump. i think he's egregiously bad, in every regard i can think of. the worst president ever, and a terrible person to boot. i just worry that reading this book will make hating trump feel "too easy" and "obvious" and not dwell sufficiently on the pressing, pertinent issues of what's happening right now with the u.s. government and a lot of governments, but make me focus on the minutiae of his seemingly excessive, morally corrupt idiocy... i just don't want to be quoting stuff later that isn't true... internet-y, propaganda-ish stuff... i don't know. that's sort of how this presidency came about... ok, that's enough


i'm so lucky to live in a time of language. if i didn't, like, i can just imagine my experience of life and society, screaming, crying, bashing my head against a wall. in this form of existence, i've been able to examine and explore my life and experiences and thoughts, sometimes with great epiphany, other times with humor. when i've existed, um, in absence of having lingual thoughts, i guess i don't know what i mean, exactly. when i drop examination, through language, maybe, i mean, of experiences, it's always been a lot worse

this blog has improved my life

like a punch line to a joke could be: "no, no, but listen, i love life. i hate <i>my</i> life"

i don't know

no, i mean, i do. maybe at the end of a long, drawn-out thing. like in 1960, or something you're telling this joke... i'm just getting some things down right now, while i'm feeling positive

or another joke, like, say you were doing stand-up. you could bring a backpack on stage. wait, no, you don't have to. that makes it prop comedy. but you could anyway, if you wanted to, but you really don't have to, that doesn't affect the efficacy of the joke. ok hold on... ok, so the joke could be like about how when you go to the movies, you always get a lot of space and quiet, because you're a single white man, and if people are being loud or annoying around you, about ten minutes in you fumble around a lot in your backpack... like about white male shooters in movie theaters...

i guess there haven't been that many, it's just something i think about a lot when i'm at the movies. if i'm there alone, i feel like people think i'm one of the disgruntled white men who turns into shooters... i always feel bad, like i'm putting people on edge... in the joke you could say something like "i haven't commanded a room like that since rushing for kappa kappa delta" or something... a joke about how you suck

okay, done

it doesn't have to be a <i>good</i> idea, i didn't say that... it's not even an idea! just something i typed here

another thing i took down as a note to remind myself to think more about was: "having nightmares i thought i was listening to audiobook of taos book bed the horror in my nightmares felt exaggerated"

it was that i kept, like, sort of waking up, but falling back asleep, so i knew it was a dream, but i was seeing gruesome, over-the-top style horror stuff, embedded within the framework and conversations of, like, characters and stories from tao lin's collection 'bed' (2007). it's hard to explain, but i knew i was just witnessing this stuff, unpleasant and unsettling as it could be, as a third party, like, i knew i was just getting a different experience of tao's "stories" than the traditional "reading" one. i knew it was an audiobook, but it was like i'd manifested the images, that i was existing within my imagination somehow. i kept thinking "this is different than how i remember any of tao's stories... is this a new story?" until i realized tao's stories didn't include 'the ring' (2002)-like cuts and 'the grudge' (2004)-like creature-y, unpredictable movements. then i woke up, and understood what had happened. i started to drift back into the dream, but didn't want to be around the repulsiveness and unnerving quality of the horror aspect, so i forced myself to get out of bed and drink some water

my mouth was so dry, from sleeping on my back, i think, because i was trying to avoid rolling over onto my cat, who was wedged between my chest and armpit, somewhat. not exactly touching, but very close to

anywhooo... ya gotta not sleep with ya mouth open, kid! just kidding

i started reading tao's new nonfiction book 'trip.' it's very affirming and elaborative of some of the beliefs i've already held toward psychedelics, while introducing new and heretofore unconsidered concepts and perspectives, and also just generally compelling, informative, excellently researched, explaining things in a way that encourages the reader to go off on personal thought tangents, both easy and fun to read... not that i think "ease" of reading qualifies my enjoyment of reading a book, so much as, when it's fun to read something, it's easy to want to read it... also, it's nice when it's easy to understand what's going on... i don't feel like sharing too many thoughts or going into things, as i'm only 68 pp. through, but it's worth mentioning i like it

my mom texted me a picture of a bunny in her backyard this morning. i replied "so cute and chubby!!!! it woke up bc it warmed up"... it's been kind of warmer outside. in fact, yesterday, i walked to the beach, and it was sunny and maybe close to forty degrees. i experienced a flood of associations and reactions, ultimately feeling "dipped in" "okayness," and general positive emotions. this culminated in sensing, via smell, my, like, "capacity to love"

i posted the picture of the bunny on instagram. katie said she liked it, and i remarked on how it was styled (blurry and monochromatic done with great sangfroid) after her own photography and blog

another joke

is that usage of "sangfroid" correct, by the way? i only learned the word this morning. it was included in a very nice rejection letter from penguin press


occasionally, when i instinctively don't like someone, i'll try hard to like them a lot, like more than i would with other people, people i probably could like, or already do like, and it's never worked

i end up just resenting the person more, for trying to like them. i can think of several times this has happened, over the course of many years

i think it's just, like, if i feel that "omen" about someone, i'm just going to never be able to fully like him or her. it's usually a him. i remember spending a lot of time in 2015 with people that fit this category. there was nothing wrong with them mostly, i was just faking it, because i didn't want to face other stuff

it would be good to just stick with the instinctual disliking thing, or better yet to not care. to ignore people, but it's hard. it's fun to play the game against myself. see if i can outwit myself

if i like someone before i know them, i'm almost always right. or i can't be proven wrong. i've never kicked out a window, but they all look like good candidates

yesterday i woke up really tired. i felt like i was behind a tv screen. like a crt tv, how the screen wasn't flat, slightly bulging out, reflecting stuff back convexly. i felt like i was on the other side of that. all my muscles hurt. today there's just a part of my back that seems out of place

i heard a horse through the phone. not the horse, but the sounds of katie being next to a horse, outside, in arizona. then she said there were a few more horses. she said the sound of her voice had made them interested. i don't know, i couldn't picture anything

i forget the name of the cross streets she told me the cop cars were parked outside of. i wanted to look up what might have happened. the video showed cops holding shotguns and eight or nine squad cars with their lights going parked alongside a house in what she said was a nice part of the city, on a sunday morning, to the song "bullet proof nothing" by simply saucer

and i kept crying reading the new york times profile of joy williams from 2015. i think we'd enjoy cooking together, me and joy. she has a pet tortoise and two german shepherds. i think i'd love to sleep on her couch, with a rough wool blanket, with fringes. i'm sure we'll never have a real conversation, but i should figure out how to send her a letter. i know how to send a letter to bobby shmurda and i never do it. the article says she doesn't have an email address. she's only in her early seventies. that's, like, defiant, behavior. it also says she's been working a novel for a while. something about a desert animal nobody's ever seen, or something. i started to cry when i read that

in the interview, when asked how she's been able to make a living as a writer, she answers, "it doesn’t add up... i don’t know! i don’t know how i’ve lived"

maybe i'll keep pa-ing at snl even if my novel wins the pulitzer prize. i don't think they can stop me from pa-ing, if i continue to just do the work. i'm pretty adequate. i don't ever not do the work asked of me

i mopped the floors. i mop my floors like twice a year, so now i don't have to for a while. i did my laundry. i showered. i fed the cat. i'm wearing three shirts, two with collars. i'm going to ikea later to buy stuffed animals for myself, then to an opening somewhere in brooklyn so i can be around people

i thought there was something i really wanted to put down here, to remember. something about the paint coming off my tub, or putting the top sheet on my bed. now i can't remember. i started reading 'natural selection' (1990) by frederick barthelme yesterday. i love it

oh, i remembered. it was something related to the top sheet. okay, here: i saw the blood stain from cutting my finger preparing shrimp cocktail, hurrying before i had to drive to the subway station, in march of last year. the blood stain is on my mattress, because the band-aid came off in the night. i cut my finger probably down to the bone. i think three nights, maybe four nights, earlier, i cut the ball of my hand going down in the subway tracks after swiping into the queens-bound side, when i needed to go toward church avenue. the g train. after we saw 'get out' (2017). i don't believe in symbols. i do think it's nice, though. there was all this blood, and i felt, like, full of life

it was great, feeling such a wide range of emotions all the time. it felt, um... i just mean thinking about the word "range." like i was experiencing emotions in a huge, flat, sweeping, beautiful space. like a ranch. (that's close to "range.") thank you, everyone who lets me have emotions at them. thank you, iphones, for making it easier to have my emotions at people

i'm glad i remembered about the blood. i wanted to put that down, so i could remember it again another time

i need a little bit of a hair cut, and i'm afraid if someone does it i'll just feel sad it wasn't who i wanted. i think if someone punched me in the back right, it would fix one of my current problems