10.28.2008

how to be alone

Sleep in clothes. Pop zits. Eat salty foods. Talk to yourself in the car. Look at pictures. Read words. Wake up. Go to sleep. Look to call someone on the phone. There is no one. Spend lunch breaks at the grocery store, looking around. Stay late at work. Go to sleep too late. Wake up too early.

Escape when possible. Smoke a cigarette. Drink until you have sex. Paint your nails blue. Look up flight prices to exotic locations. Write a craigslist ad. Don't respond to any of the replies you get.

Take a bath until you are human milk. Eat half a box of cookies. Wake up. Go to sleep.

Talk to people. Nod your head. Review conversations you've had. Wonder if you could've done more, if you could've said things better. Check your work's gmail account.

Set three alarms. Listen to books on tape. Read until your muscles are cramped and it's hard to be comfortable. Turn on the t.v. Fall asleep. Wake up.

Think of baking something.

Think of fixing your bike.

Spend two hours in a craft store, looking for something you keep forgetting.

Remember dates you've had. Remember parties you've been to. Look at the phone as if it has a delicious meal it's not sharing with you.

Go to 24 hour grocery stores. Eat watermelon in the parking lot, in your car. Turn the heat on. Go to the movies. Draw seven lines on a piece of paper. Use old gift cards. There is now time.

See other people. They are laughing, always.

10.22.2008

I had a dream that there was this thing called "GapNews" which was entertainment news broadcast on a large screen outside of all Gap stores, 24/7.

The news said that Stuart Murdoch, lead singer of Belle & Sebastian, was dead. Everyone thought this was funny and cute, and was saying "oh, that's twee pop for you!" sarcastically, but I was actually really sad about it. I sort of knew they would never make the same kind of music again, if they even stayed a band after he died.

There was something else about a boardwalk and being cold and having sand blow on me. And parking a car. I don't remember.

I've slept for twelve out of the past forty-eight hours. That means I've been asleep one quarter of the time. It doesn't feel like it's been that long. I feel like I've been awake for three months straight. Even though just a few weeks ago, I was sleeping most of the time. I feel like I'm sort of in a dream state most of the time, and my functioning with other people is almost solely autopilot-based.

I think I like food because it makes me feel grounded. I feel like there is no gravity around me.

10.19.2008

1:06pm
Searched for
the best gifts for heath ledger


1:06pm
Searched for
how to buy bengal tigers


1:07pm
Searched for
does heath ledger like bengal tigers?


1:07pm
Searched for
bengal tiger eating patterns


1:07pm
Searched for
bengal tigers preferring australian meat


1:08pm
Searched for
heath ledger measurements


1:08pm
Searched for
custom tiger bite proof vests


1:09pm
Searched for
buying a ghost tiger


1:09pm 
Searched for 
can ghosts play with live tigers?

10.17.2008

what cleaning out your childhood house feels like

booty booty booty booty booty booty booty booty booty booty booty

what what what what what what what what what what what

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

KHFSDFKDSFKHLDFSKLDSFHKL

what

what

what

what

what

what

what

what

i want to bang my head on a desk for three hours and then drink seven beers in four minutes and sleep for five weeks

i want to CTRL + ALT + DEL

i want a bathtub

and a back rub

and to eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat

music boxes are make the most depressing sound in the world. this is what a music box sounds like: "i exist only to be sweet, and nobody loves me."

it feels like grasshoppers are busting out of my skin or something

i feel like a hungry grizzly bear with p.m.s. in a cave three sizes too small, and someone is saying "do your homework or you will never graduate!" while poking me and waking me up from the best nap of my life

i wish i was a heroin addict so moving all this shit out of this house would be no big deal, because my huge #1 problem would be being addicted to heroin

how do you throw this shit away? how do you do that? i have so much shit. i have been interested in a lot of different shit from ages 10 - 23. i have accumulated many things which reflect my interests in this shit. i have grown at least a foot since then, and i have gotten boobs and hips, and this one time i got fat, and then i got skinny, and then i got a little fatter but not quite as fat as i was, and then i got very skinny, and now i'm skinny-to-average, so i've had had clothes from sizes four to fourteen, not to mention kids clothes OH MY GOD OH MY GOD THAT'S SO MUCH FABRIC I FEEL SO GROSS.

i feel like using lower case letters

fuck you

fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck boom boom boom boom boom fuck fuck boom fuck boom

10.12.2008

my eyes are chalky i'm falling asleep kind of why would anyone ever want to read this why do i want to read this or write this i can't find my paper journal but that's not why i started this i started this because i thought it would be funny to have a blog called "tom hanks superfan" last night while i was stoned and now i'm not sure what i'm doing other than giving punctuation and coherent sentences the finger.

In bed, I always feel little tickles on my legs, which I assume is static electricity playing with my nerves and hair follicles. 

Ever just want to kiss someone?

I was hungry all night tonight, except for when I was supposed to eat on my break. But other than that half an hour, I've felt like I need to put something into my mouth and body, but I don't know what. I think if I was kissing someone, I wouldn't feel this way, because there would be something in my mouth.

I'm falling asleep as I'm typing this.

10.10.2008

today i swung on the swings in wyman park for a long time, then went to the bma, felt strangely moved by the monet painting "waterloo bridge (the effects of sun on smoke)", ate half of an avocado and peanut butter pretzels, smoked a cigarette in bumper to bumper traffic, got a stupid message on my machine, got my new car, drove it, ate falafel with my parents, fell asleep watching a tourism video about venice from the early 60's with my mom, plucked my eyebrows, switched everything in my old to new car, hung up the pine tree air freshener, smoked weed on my porch swing, thought spiders were getting the munchies, thought i heard a tiny deer beast in the woods, had some good ideas that i now forget, got my high school lamp and made a blog on blogger.com. 

that might be the most boring thing i've ever written.

i feel like my movements are like frog movements right now. my typing is insectile or something. i don't know what i'm talking about. 

the colors in that monet painting are so gorgeous. it makes you feel like you're right there with him, looking at the bridge in the early morning fog. the caption under the painting said that he said london fog had the most colors and light shifts and he wanted to be able to paint them all.

it's hard to hold onto thoughts for a long time when i'm like this.