yesterday, which was monday, katie and i went to moma ps1. there, on exhibition, were some of the works carolee schneemann and cathy wilkes. i preferred the schneemann to the wilkes. for katie, the opposite was true. we're calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend again. there was also a room exhibiting a smaller collection of work by an artist whose name i forgot. of the things on display in the museum, i liked his the best. his name is alvaro barrington. i just looked into it, and i feel like i'll forget again soon

later, we ate pot edibles and watched tv. i cooked beans with a lot of things and we ate them with tortillas. we watched 'frasier,' 'curb your enthusiasm,' 'titanic' and 'gilmore girls.' i cut up pieces of a chocolate bar and sprinkled them in our popcorn. then we shared an apple. sometime after that we ate raisin bran

i recommend the story "virility" by cynthia ozick. it appears in her first collection, 'the pagan rabbi and other stories' (1971), and i wasn't able to find any information about if it was originally published in a magazine or journal, or when that might have been. anyone with this information is encouraged to share it... i think i like stories with a "twist." i don't know that i like this quality in myself, but in "virility" it's, like superlative in its handling of a plot-thing like that. even just slightly, it's more complex. in college i wrote a story, and andrew didn't like the ending, so i changed the ending to a non-sequitur. it was almost, like, magical... mystical. andrew liked this version. i based it off what i remember of something gordon lish does in a story in... i want to say it's in 'mourner at the door' (1988). it's a story with a talking dog in it

two days ago, i picked up katie at the airport. we ate chana saag at the indian restaurant under her apartment and saw 'lady bird' (2017) at bam. i didn't expect to like it. the movie is greta gerwig's writer-directorial debut, which, unduly, i feel, caused me to a feel an aversion toward it. i hated 'frances ha' (2012) when it came out. i wrote a scathing review for htmlgiant about how it was a lie. i haven't seen it since, but when i think about it, i still take issue with that movie. the character is lazy and undeveloped and everything is resolved for her in, like, a deus ex machina-esque montage scene at the end. i had liked 'mistress america' (2015), though, it reminded me of a stage play, and i suppose i'd tried to submerge my good memory of it in order to maintain my negative position re gerwig. it's kind of wonderful when i have my heart set against something to be proven wrong. very humbling, makes me stop trusting myself, interesting feeling. anyway, 'lady bird' seemed to me like it was going to be about teenage platitudes, and it sort of was, but in a way that felt honest in a surprisingly stark, simple way. it was very emotional, family and coming-of-age stuff, but i found myself engaged and entertained, which seems rare in general. i was very tired and cried a lot. in high school, i downloaded 'baghead' (2008) and 'nights and weekends' (2008). i remember really enjoying both of those movies. overall, i think gerwig is cool. i feel like the reason i was resisting 'lady bird,' if i'm being completely honest with myself, has something to do with societally-ingrained sexism. for instance, in proofreading this post, i discovered i'd originally typed "his first collection" about the ozick book. considering this makes me worry about preferring the male artist's stuff at moma ps1 to the other stuff, but i don't think that was the case, in that case. still... i'm problematic. katie suggested i attribute the faults i found in gerwig re 'greenberg' (2010) and 'frances ha' to noah baumbach, which i was already somewhat doing but will make sure to do with more aplomb from here forward. hanging out with them (baumbach and gerwig) as a couple, i imagine, would be insufferable

katie and i split a white fish sandwich and matzoh ball soup. i forgot to ask katie what she thought of white fish, or if she'd eaten it before. matzah brei was misspelled on the menu as "brie" and katie pronounced it like that and thought maybe it was like something with matzah and brie, melted brie, if i remember correctly, which actually sounds pretty good. the lady sitting next to us listened to a lot of our conversation i think. she chimed in about the matzah brei thing, and she maybe reacted (via laugh-snorting) when i talked about how my uncle had mentioned how he was happy he voted for trump in his eulogy for my grandmother last summer

i did healthcare stuff. i should make some phone calls next week. might change my internet from optimum to verizon fios. if optimum is reading this, please make my bill lower and i won't switch

what else, what else...

we listened to 'either/or' (1997) by elliott smith in the car. i didn't include a parenthesized "1997" following 'titanic' earlier because it didn't seem to fit in that sentence stylistically, nor does it strike me that people would be interested to know what year that movie was released, due to its cultural ubiquity. currently, i'm stoned

while driving through park slope today, a cop was going very slowly two cars ahead of me. i regarded him, to myself, as a "pig fuck"... no snitching...

going to drive to massachusetts in the morning for thanksgiving stuff. i'm picking up katie from a gallery in the morning and we're leaving from there. minutes ago, she texted me "bring a blank CD tomorrow ? i’ll make a car mix?" i wonder if that means she's going to burn the cd while we're driving in the car. i really hope that's what it means

no snitching...


i hallucinated frasier and niles suddenly, mid-episode being robots, as if robots had taken over the world, in a manner like it had always been that way, like i'd heretofore experienced an alternate timeline/parallel universe/mandela effect a la "the berenstein/berenstain bears," and accepted this situation readily


having trouble getting out of bed today. some thoughts/ideations of the past seem to be um... um... okay, i remembered the word i wanted to use... manifesting

i don't feel good. can't tell if why i don't feel good is for a real reason or something i've created to distract me, in a negative way. i don't know

one thing i don't like is how cars ahead of you will slow down when approaching a cop that has pulled someone over. like that cop, already out of his/her car, dealing with someone else's "violation," is going to notice you driving five miles over the speed limit, abandon his/her already-started, i don't know what to call it... his/her already-started "protocol" with someone he/she thinks is "violating" the law, like he or she is going to abandon that and go after you... it's not the same as rubbernecking, what i'm describing. it's just slowing down when you see a cop's lights going, on the side of the road, in the position of having pulled someone over. riddle me why people think this cop might, then, already so occupied, about-face, vacating the "situation" he/she's already gone through pains to establish to go after them?

my tire had a nail in it. i didn't know this, but my steering wheel was pulling to the right, and when i googled it, the internet said the most common reason for this is uneven tire pressure. i managed to convince myself that my front right tire was looking a little low, so i asked the mechanics on my block if they'd fill it up. without my discussing the steering wheel stuff, they told me to turn my wheel all the way to the left and back up. they found the nail on the inside corner of the tire, where i would never have been able to see it myself, and they patched it for free. my steering wheel has since resumed normal function

earlier that day, my therapist asked if i minded if she took a nap before our session. i said it was fine. afterwards, i talked to her about how i was afraid we'd go to war with north korea. i referenced some statistics i'm not certain about. also, i was pleased to discover the north korean flag has an emoji

for the past few years i've been eating (drinking?) raw eggs almost every day. i usually consume three, and i think it has notably improved my health. i get sick a lot less, and it's a good source of protein, with only seventy calories per egg. i mostly try to spit out the whites, after i read they somewhat counteract the health benefits of the yolks, which is where the vast majority of vitamins and nutrients are stored

conor came over on tuesday, which was three days ago, and spent the night. we drank pinot noir made in oregon, and in the morning we put coconut oil and butter in our coffees, which was fine. i'll probably do it again when i'm bored

this blog post sucks. that said, the narrator from the first story in 'break it down' (1986) by lydia davis seems like the same as the one in her novel 'the end of the story' (1994). there's a lot of evidence for this throughout the novel, though it could also be argued otherwise. i am open to this argument. ranking her books of fiction from most favorite to least favorite, i would rank them the following:
  1. cant and won't (2014)
  2. varieties of disturbance (2007)
  3. the end of the story (1994)
  4. samuel johnson is indignant (2001)
  5. break it down (1986)
  6. almost no memory (1997)
and it's important to note, i think dr. bronner's changed the formula, or otherwise botched an enormous batch, of their tea tree oil castile soap. it smells "off," almost rancid. i tried to return the most bottle i bought most recently (size: 32 oz.) to the food coop, but i'd lost the receipt and they wouldn't accept it. afterwards, i smelled the other bottles on the shelf, and they had the same bad smell. i called zoe and katie about this, and they'd both also noticed the change. i tried to call the dr. bronner's customer service line but it kept going to voice mail. while we're at it, i'd like to point out that i didn't really try to return the soap. i called and told the person at the food coop about the smell, and they said i couldn't return it without a receipt. i dug through the trash and couldn't find the right one, but i got an idea at what rate some of my perishables decomposes, and i did find a receipt for a different shopping trip, in which i hadn't bought dr. bronner's soap. i looked around for a similarly priced item, noting a bottle of nature's way echinacea with goldenseal, and thought i'd bring the receipt, take another bottle off the shelf, where i'd bought that one, and bring it up for a return, unopened, explaining that i'd meant to buy regular echinacea, like that i couldn't eat goldenseal root for some reason. when i got to the coop, though, they didn't have the same brand of echinacea with goldenseal that i'd previously purchased (nature's way). it looked like they'd stopped carrying it, so my plan was ruined, and i came up with another thing i tried on the spot, showing the person the receipt and saying that the echinacea with goldenseal capsules had gone rancid, such that when i'd opened the bottle, they'd smelled horrible, and i'd had to throw them away. the person went in the back to discuss this return with a superior, and we had some back and forth, with my trying to justify this made up rancid smell, and it looked like they were going to give me the refund, but then they asked for the bottle. i said i'd thrown it away, and they said without the bottle i was complaining about there was nothing they could do for me. they said i should try calling the company. i felt defeated, but righteously, and i felt less bad after smelling the other bottles of soap, confirming that all the dr. bronner's tea tree castile soap had changed formulas or, for some reason, gone "bad." i tried calling the customer service line a couple more times before giving up. that was a week ago. i'm still using the soap, and it's stopped smelling bad to me

i helped zachary move one of his two fridges down to the curb, and conor and i watched all of season seven of 'game of thrones' in one day. that show sucks

yesterday i had work, and the teamster i was driving with kept the truck so cold and smoked cigarettes. after i left i felt very sick, and it recently occurred to me that the lyric "keep on shooting that gun don't reload" eventually doesn't make sense


among some of the vinyl lps my father gave me from his collection ten or so years ago is a three-disc recording of a leon russell concert. i've listened to 'leon live' probably a dozen times, maybe sometimes years have passed between listens. the other day, i took it out and sort of studied it. of the three discs, there are six "sides," which makes plenty of sense, though the definition and distribution of these "sides" stops making sense quickly. the first disc contains (not the right word... "is pressed with" also seems inaccurate) "side 1." when you flip it over, however, the label on the opposite side of the disc indicates "side 6." the next disc continues in this pattern, with "side 2" on one end and "side 5" on its opposite. the final disc, is labeled with "side 3" and "side 4"

i listened to the concert, flipping the records around, looking at them, trying to understand how record players (or maybe dual turntables) might have managed or played into the logic of this, but could think of nothing. it seems obviously much easier to turn a disc over to listen to the next side than to remove it from the table and put on a new vinyl, and have to change the disc on the table five times (disc with side one, disc with side two, disc with sides three and four, disc with side five, disc with side six) to get through the album in order. can anyone offer some insight on this? is it that, with a dual turntable, the transition would be smoother, like, starting the second side at the exact moment the first side has ended, to avoid dead air? but is that something people really cared about? i don't think, at home for instance, people would go through the process of trying to line up the end of one side with the beginning of another. perhaps this was a design for radio or club djs? was this a conventional way to print records? i have other double and triple lps from the same era that don't engage in this, but maybe i'm overlooking a practice or system that i don't understand by not being born at a certain time

on sunday nights they turn the heat off in my apartment. usually it stops running around eight p.m. and doesn't turn back on until eight or nine a.m. on monday. this has been going on for most of the time i've lived here, over a year, and i don't understand it, in a similar way to my not understanding the 'leon live' side distribution. in the approximately twelve hours that the heat is off, my apartment cools down significantly, and i typically prepare for this by sleeping in a sweatshirt, long underwear, sweatpants, two pairs of socks and a winter hat on sunday nights. i don't know anything about boilers or appliances. i've entertained that it has something to do with my super's religion, and he just doesn't come in to make sure the heat is running on sundays, but i'm not going to ask him. i've never asked him about the heat, except to call on a couple exceptionally cold monday mornings to press him to turn it on. in these instances, he always says "i just did, it will be working soon" and it always does

some foods that contain vinegar, or are fermented in a certain way contain a thing called "the 'mother.'" i am thinking of bragg apple cider vinegar and kombucha. are there other foods i don't know about that contain a "the 'mother?'" if there are, i want to eat them... i guess i mean drink them

i had trouble sleeping yesterday because of the heat being off, and i took a walk to try to wake myself up. it didn't work, and i moved around coney island and lamented not being closer to nature. there were lots of birds on the north side of the island, and trash. i don't know. i had a vision of myself walking through tall, wet grass in a morning, a kitten jumping around, gamboling at my feet, and there being wildflowers in the grass. i've had a similar vision of myself living in a small dark room in ireland. ultimately, i don't see myself leaving new york

i talked on the phone with katie three times yesterday. she's coming back to new york on sunday, and i think we're going to massachusetts for thanksgiving later next week

actually, on the first morning i met with my literary agent, i also couldn't sleep because the heat had been off and the wind chill was negative something. that was this past january. i haven't been writing, but i used to post a lot of things like this on facebook. i remember feeling like it was the ultimate creative environment, many of my friends posting their thoughts and jokes and writing in an enclosed community. i liked to think of it as "my curated audience"

i took a nap, with my winter hat over my eyes and dreamed of moving around in colors, or that's how it felt, as i remember it. simple bland pastels

my mother is a physical therapist. she works with retarded children, predominantly, and she has for forty years. sometimes i buy her books i would never read myself, like i've been thinking about buying her the new jeffrey eugenides story collection for chanukah, because i know she likes his other books, but i also don't want to encourage her to read stuff i'm not interested in, which feels selfish, but also honest. i don't know. think i might buy her 'can't and won't' (2014) by lydia davis too


i'm constantly losing bookmarks. for the most part i fashion them from stickers my friend matthew made and gave to me in a large quantity when i visited him in salt lake city in 2015. the stickers say "I DON'T KNOW WHAT AMERICA IS" and are around .75 inches by 2.5 inches. i make the bookmarks by cutting the sticker in half and removing the sticker from the glossy paper it's adhered to. then i use the glossy paper, around .75 inches by 1.25 inches, as a bookmark. i'm constantly losing these. i was, however, given so many stickers to begin with that it's hardly posed a problem. sometimes i'll use a small receipt from a bodega as a bookmark, or, when i'm volunteering as a cashier at the park slope food coop, i'll press the "feed" button on the receipt printer and rip off a small piece of blank paper. these wear a lot quicker than the glossy paper from the stickers, though, because the receipt paper is much softer and thinner, thus frailer

do they still have massage chairs like how they were popular in the nineties? leather chairs, sometimes recliners, with electronics and moving parts that are meant to "massage" the sitter? both 'seinfeld' and 'frasier' had episodes that revolved around the purchase of one. they had them at malls, and they could be coin-operated. they actually had one at the laundromat my girlfriend and i frequented from 2012 to 2013, but i haven't seen one, that i can remember, since

i've been sort of revisiting 'frasier.' i don't know how long this will last. i watched almost the entire series in 2015, save for the final episode, which was the second half of a two-part episode. i'd just gotten out of a relationship (not the one with the laundromat girlfriend), and also my friend had just died from an od, and i didn't want the show to end

in season one episode fourteen, frasier says, "for the record, i am not a perv." in season one episode fifteen, daphne goes to a bar called "the topaz room." when i was living on montrose avenue with conor and miles and, at the very end, erik, a bar opened on our block called "the topaz." it looked bougie and out of place and was directly next to a bar we regularly drank at. after a few months passed and none of us had attempted to stop in, we three made a deal that the first person to enter the establishment would pay the other three fifty dollars each. as far as i know, still none of us has been inside the topaz. supposedly they have a weekly open mic

in another episode (i didn't write down which one) daphne comes out of the kitchen carrying a tray with a six-pack of ballantines on it. that's kind of funny

it's nice to sometimes eat a half a bagel with just plain cream cheese, instead of having any fix-ins. same with butter. also, why did they stop releasing albums on tuesdays? weren't fridays good enough already without that? didn't releasing music on tuesdays kind of "break up the week" and make it into a day people could occasionally look forward to? and the term "bitchin'," where did that go?

i've been waiting for my literary agent to get back to me about selling my novel to this one particular editor. not sure how long or to what end these kind of processes take/go... just typing this... don't really have a thought other than impatience

a different thing that's been on my mind: have reporters been dropping these bombshell sexual misconduct stories centered around information that's been around for years a few days after mass shootings to obfuscate/overshadow gun control legislation and distract people from the constancy of mass murder under pressure of the government, or for some other reason? in las vegas, fifty-eight people were killed; nine days later, the new york times published the harvey weinstein story. in sutherland springs, twenty-six people were killed; four days later, the new york times published the louis c.k. story. i guess it might not have anything to do with guns, just distraction from scary stuff in general. like the terrorist attack in new york, re which the governor called for more cops on the streets, which, in my estimation, could not possibly have done (nor will do, in the future) anything to prevent someone from driving a rented truck through a bike lane, and into pedestrians

on the roof of the apartment next to mine, separated by a very narrow alley, there was a small black cat lying in the sun. i tried to bring this to the attention of my cat, and she looked in its direction, but i don't know if she recognized what i wanted her to, or would care if she had. the cat is no longer there on the roof. i wonder where it went


does my cat, when she sees me spray my plants with water from the spray bottle, does she think the plants have done something punishable?


i have it set up today such that i don't need to leave my apartment. i don't even need to unlock my front door. "set up" doesn't seem like the right phrase... "arranged"... i don't know. i accomplished a set of tasks yesterday. i have nothing "on my plate" today

i briefly forgot that the spray function on kitchen sinks isn't something we don't have anymore. i just haven't seen one in such a long time. like garbage disposals, these things seem to have disappeared from my life. i moved to new york eight years ago for college. i listened to broken social scene a lot back then. i don't know if it's that i don't see these middle class accoutrements because i've lived in old apartments without state of the art appliances, or because i've actively rejected them. i remember the way they looked in the nineties, the sprayer things. the one in my parents' house ran on a coil, separate from the faucet, and you held it in your hand like a hairdryer or a gun

in december 2009, i remember walking around in the snow, on fifth avenue, crying and talking to myself, listening to "glue" by neutral milk hotel. on my birthday, i watched ufo conspiracy videos on youtube

it was fun to be a teenager, but i wouldn't want to be one again. lately i've noticed i can become fairly monotone. i feel like this is learned behavior. or maybe part of the resignation of aging. i feel like i had to actively try to be monotone when i was a teenager, against my better instincts of, like, expressiveness, loudness, excitability

for a long time i've wanted to appear, as well as seem, phlegmatic, but inside i am typically raging. and raging in a typical way

i voted yesterday. i didn't feel moved by any of the things i voted for, but i like to vote because i'm afraid if i shirk the privilege, and everyone else also, unwittingly, shirks it, the government will observe this, and effectively take it away, or erode it even more than they already have for many demographics and individuals

last night, i asked zachary if he thought in like twenty-five years we'd look back on the bad things happening today, like mass shootings and trump and fake news and police brutality and rampant drug ods and people driving cars into crowds, and be like "damn, that was crazy, glad we moved past that" in the way that people sometimes talk about vietnam, civil rights, nixon, plane hijackings and other more-defunct forms of terrorism, crack, aids, inner-city crime, etc. he said "no" and that he thinks we're living in "end times"

earlier this year, i became convinced that trump (with plummeting approval ratings, and with the impending possibility of an impeachment) or trump-adjacent people would stage a military coup, attempting to take over new york. it seemed viable because we are a mass of people, mostly unarmed, mostly left-leaning, isolated and coastal, that could be seized through a series of lateral, tactical sweeps. mostly i was stoned when i thought about this stuff, and i was also able to convince myself that they'd start this military operation by landing on the southern-most point of the city, setting up a military base on coney island, emptying apartments, driving tanks through the streets and marching civilians to what end i didn't know. i felt, as i would often eat an edible and reel in bed for an hour or so worrying, hearing helicopters and phantom sounds of turmoil, that if they came for me, i'd be too stoned and unstable to comply, and would be executed in my doorway. i would put the chain lock in place and try to weigh the cost-benefits of being killed. i like to think of myself as someone who'd try to survive a situation like that, but, as i discussed with my therapist, in the same way many writers and artists must fail for one or two to come to embody the zeitgeist, or many people must remain in poverty for there to be wealthy, healthy people in society (at least under contemporary structures of society) (this is abysmal, but feels increasingly insoluble/undeniable), a lot of people have to die in conflicts like this, and maybe i'd just have to be one of them. hard to say if i'd have had the fortitude or quick thinking to endure the holocaust. that said, if someone detonated a nuclear weapon in manhattan, because of where i live and work, most likely i'd survive

i asked zachary if he'd want to try to set a meeting place, since we're in walking distance of each other, if they dropped a bomb. he said if something like that happened, he'd want to just get high for a while before he took any actions

buying nikes, or really any particularly nice clothes or shoes or anything, for children is not good practice. it's not worth it

i've look at pictures of the windows the shooter broke in the mandalay bay hotel. they look very serene, uncanny against the rest of the building

it's eleven thirty-five a.m. there's a yellow glow against the whiteness of the sky, like it's going to go dark soon, suddenly. i don't know

lydia davis wrote "I like to see the sky in the late afternoon, especially in November, I like petting my cats, hearing their cries, and holding them."


last night i was watching the sixth episode of ken burns's 'the vietnam war." there was footage of the tet offensive. journalists in that war seem like they worked harder than any war journalists before them. i feel nonjudgemental about those war journalists. i was by that time, in watching it, very stoned. i sort of lost track of where i was (my studio apartment). i felt increasingly invested in what was happening on-screen and eventually sort of felt like i was going to have a heart attack. i stopped watching a few minutes after that

one of my windows, there's been water somehow between, or within, two(?) of the panes since i moved here over a year ago. it's always, like, cloudy with condensation, no matter the weather or temperature. i hope this isn't a problem

currently, my apartment is filling with smoke because i'm seasoning my cast iron skillet, yet again. the smoke alarm keeps going off

some of the people interviewed in the 'the vietnam war' seem very relaxed and resigned to what happened. mostly these are vietnamese people who fought against americans. a few americans interviewed seem reasonably okay, others seem not well in a way that makes it kind of weird they agreed to do the interviews. i feel like, had there been a draft, i would've probably avoided the war in iraq by being in college

oh, also, the other day i was passively watching the breeder's cup. a horse named "gunrunner" won. it was somewhat unsettling how much happier the owner of the horse was than the horse or the jockey. jockeys almost don't seem to care if they lose. i guess sometimes they show robert kraft being happy when the patriots win, for instance, but never as happy as horse owners. feels stupid. it's like they're cashing out on an investment, which is different from winning a sporting event. maybe it's not

anyway, after coverage of the breeder's cup ended, 'dateline' came on, and a voiceover mentioned something about "the first iraq war." i think she was referencing the gulf war, which has maintained, i feel, a pretty consistent history with that being its name. like for a long time we called the war in iraq "the war in iraq," but maybe now that it's sort of over(?) it's easier to call it "the iraq war." but i don't know if it's appropriate to then call the gulf war "the first iraq war." it does occur to me that they used to call the first world war "the great war." stuff changes with context and time. okay. i haven't really looked into it, but i've never heard of anyone calling what i referred to as "the war in iraq" "the second iraq war"

that is all. thanks for tuning in


i think i was inclined to create a crisis for myself today, to distract me from feelings of anxiety, alienation, general bad feelings. i convinced myself i needed to reseason my cast iron skillet. the last time i did this was three years ago, i think around a similar time of year, with different circumstances of crises of varying degrees also happening, except back then, if i recall, the cast iron skillet needed reseasoning in a significantly more real way

last night i got very drunk. i don't like the feeling of being drunk as much as i used to, but it is familiar, and effectively shuts down any conceits of "should" that might otherwise be present, or ominous. i'm having trouble formulating my thoughts into writing. this feels stilted. i don't know that i really need to express this stuff

i think i prefer being alone to being around other people. it's harder to be alone when i'm consistently seeing and spending time with people, but once i get in the rhythm of it, i enjoy long-ish periods, maybe three to five weeks, of relative solitude. i get into a routine of reading and cooking, eating pot edibles at night, listening to music. it feels sustainable. when i'm around other people, there's a nagging anxiety that we need to "do" or like "advance" something. often, then, this feeling lends itself to drinking or doing drugs fulfilling the "activity" "motive." i almost always do more drugs/drinking when i'm with other people, and it takes the pressure off having to be productive because it's basically impossible to be productive during these periods of mutual intoxication

it's okay. i'm not mad about it, though it does feel dishonest. i told my therapist i get annoyed at people for not doing stuff exactly the way i'd do it, because my life seems good the way i live it, so if they lived the same as me, they'd be happy because they'd have what i have. i think i don't actually believe this. i don't care what most people do with their lives

i found a blog where you can download some classic rock that seems a little outsidery/arty, but not so outsidery/arty that it didn't make it to mp3 by 2008 or so. the url is: wasntborntofollow10.blogspot.com. i downloaded a few leon russell albums i didn't have, and i'm looking forward to listening to them

i remember, as a child, my father going on and on about how much he loved the album recording of 'the concert for bangla desh.' we one afternoon spent hours looking for a copy of his vinyl lp, but he must have lost it, or maybe sold it. leon russell covers the rolling stones. it's very good. my parents and i went to see him in scituate maybe more than ten years ago. my father and i went to see ravi shankar (accompanied by his daughter) in boston sometime shortly before or after that

i also remember, in high school, there was a person who recorded folk/rock music and posted it on his myspace, in the same way that i also did stuff like that. he was into captain beefheart, though, and i harbor a vague conviction that captain beefheart sucks, i think because of feeling competitive with that person. at some point, he got in trouble for having adderall or maybe xanax on him without a prescription after getting pulled over. i can't remember why he got pulled over, or how the cops could've found drugs on him. his dad was a veterinarian who my parents joked had a crush on my mom

anyway, i tried to listen to 'trout mask replica' yesterday and couldn't get into it. i felt defeated. also, why did they spell it "bangla desh" in the seventies? when did they start spelling it "bangladesh"

and now i got a news alert on my phone that someone shot and killed at least twenty people at a church in texas, "gunman dead following chase." i hate this... i feel insane...

people are always telling me stories about having, like, a chatty cab driver or something, but cab drivers rarely try to talk to me, and i'm glad about that


the sky is white right now. when i look at it, and then look away, there's like a purple after-effect in my peripheral vision. my cat is under the blanket. it's kind of damp-feeling in my apartment. i want this to be because i live near the water, but that seems kind of wishful/wistful. it probably isn't damp in here, just cold

i dropped katie off at the airport this morning. i'm drinking her coffee but it has soy milk in it. the light has been nice lately. white, gray, lavender, soft orange, broad strokes across the sky. someone on the radio said trump was painting the uzbek people with a "broad brush." i like that term. there was a full moon sometime early in the morning, like one a.m. or something

two nights ago, driving home from work, in traffic, i took my foot off the brake pedal and was spacing out, maybe looking at my phone, and i drifted into the car in front of me. the car had "PRESTIGE" decaled on the back of it, and i'd been following or next to or near it for probably ten miles, going under twenty miles per hour on first the bqe, then the belt parkway. though the impact was made at probably less than five miles per hour, it was jarring, and felt somewhat severe. we never exchanged insurance information. the guy in the "PRESTIGE" car just looked at his back bumper and touched it. i said "i'm so sorry." he was eastern european, i think. he had a thick accent and said "okay" and put his hand up, got back into his car and drove away

i wish lil uzi vert were my friend. i think we'd get along. he's a leo and i'm a sagittarius. my mom is a leo. i've cried listening to "xo tour llif3" a lot. guy i was working with on the truck two days ago seemed to like it too, because he kept turning up the radio when it came on. i think maybe lil uzi vert made some changes to the song. it sounded different on the radio recently, but i can't remember how

at work yesterday, i had to drive around with a generation z person. she was driving a van, and didn't put the radio on because i don't think it even occurred to her that radio is a viable option or something. we drove in silence, and she mocked the way i applied to college, implying it's a lot harder to apply to college recently than it was nine years ago

we were driving together because i had to pick up some bags of ice, and at the 7-eleven in corona, queens a middle-aged white guy came in and started aggressively, almost comically being racist to the store attendants, who were of middle eastern or south-asian descent. it was around six a.m., and he started by calling them "isis." he said they didn't know about sports, that the only sport in their country was making bombs, and he pantomimed being a bomb, "flying" around the store and then "exploding." then he said their cousin did the terrorist attack in manhattan earlier this week. he said "your cousin blew up that guy," but nobody had been blown up in the attack. then he said "this guy thinks i'm crazy" and i became aware of myself flagrantly frowning/glaring at him. he said he was the store attendants' friend, and i said, "it's racist," but he said it wasn't. the 7-eleven guys seemed to be used to it. they even sort of played along, laughing and affirming stuff he was saying. it was confusing, and i felt bad. the credit card my boss had given me to buy the ice kept getting declined, and eventually i left the store without buying anything

back in the van, i looked at the generation z person's phone and hallucinated that she was using a new maps/navigation app called "sarin"

later, katie and i split an order of chana saag. we drank half a bottle of pinot noir, and she said, when she'd seen the raincoats interviewed the night before, that someone had asked what punk means to them, and they'd answered it was about doing stuff they wanted to do even though they didn't know how to do it. i felt groggy and emotional. i got quiet, and we were given a ten-percent discount for paying with cash