MEGAN ASS BOYLE

decide what i'll wear in the november 'nylon'

2011-09-26T01:05:00.015-04:00

this november i'll be a 'featured reader/author' in nylon's 'shelf help' section (re 'selected unpublished blog posts of a mexican panda express employee')

this tuesday (sept. 27) evan campisi is photographing me for that

i'll wear whatever outfit gets the most votes. vote on an outfit by leaving a comment with (number of outfit you like best) or (describe outfit you like best). voting ends 1:30PM tuesday, sept. 27

1. red dress/black tights (15)
2. 'i am carles' t-shirt tucked into green shorts/black tights (3)
3. men's striped sweater and green shorts (.5)
4. 'kindergarten teacher-looking' denim dress (2.5)
5. black tights with xanax v-neck (shirt designed by brandon scott gorrell, featured in the winning ensemble of tao lin's july 2010 'control what i wear in nylon magazine' contest) (2)
6. 'i am carles' t-shirt worn under blazer, tucked into yellow skirt/black tights (6)
7. black dress/black tights (5.5)
8. yellow polo dress/black tights (16.5) (2 votes via facebook)
9. 6 flannel shirts and tights (3)
10. apron i'll buy from goodwill the morning of the photo shoot (0)
11. muumuu i'll buy from goodwill the morning of the photo shoot (1)
12. suggest something and i'll add it to the list, i feel open to anything

12a. poncho + sombrero (1)

12b. bodysuit (.5)

12c. 'adult-sized taco costume' (6.5)
12d. 'tao's clothes' (1)
12e. 'frida kahlo' (.5)

wearing with each outfit: black tom's slip-ons. hair style subject to change. faces/poses will hopefully be more attractive

alert the presses

2011-01-27T02:47:00.026-05:00

"selected unpublished blog posts of a mexican panda express employee," a poetry collection, is to be released by Muumuu House on November 15, 2011--a mere 30 days before the author's 26th year as "Megan Boyle: unemployed, depressed, internet-using human being"

Pre-orders can be pre-ordered by clicking this helpful link

Hope you've saved enough room for a big second helping of juicy, detached, detailed accounts of even MORE people she's had sex with!

Get ready for more lies, vague relationships, and embarrassing moments!

Dave Eggers is already calling this book the milleniums's first "fsdssslkk sldk fdspqoiuwre39la sdf," and deems Boyle the "aow ASsasawoewiru ASIDA>FP" of her generation

It has been said that Boyle's semantic flair is somewhat of a combination between early* James Joyce and late-period** David Foster Wallace

Megan Boyle is available to be interviewed, massaged with exotic oils, taken on first class helicopter or private jet trials, flown to nearly any Pacific island, awarded the Nobel prize or any of your winning lottery tickets. Any of these (and other) inquiries can be directed to themeganboyle@gmail.com

*second grade

**post-humous

2010-06-25T17:21:00.009-04:00

i have frequently thought 'i am trying to be okay' in the past 48 hours without really knowing what 'okay' is or what i need to do to be 'trying'

i feel sad and the world around me feels strange and it's making the tone of my thoughts sarcastic in a weird and maybe funny way

at a traffic light today i thought 'how can this thing be serious' and 'oh wow, "stop and go," awesome'

one of my primary goals is to not take myself seriously, or at least try to convey that attitude socially, but in order to say 'i feel sad' i have to take myself seriously enough to recognize that on some level i earnestly feel the emotion 'sad'

i've been at my mom's house for a few hours. she asked me what i was going to do later today and i said, 'maybe go walk around a mall or drive somewhere or something' in what i think was an inadvertently overly sad-sounding voice

then i went in the other room and time passed

then she said 'i don't want you to be aimlessly wandering around the world wondering if anyone loves you'

then i said 'story of my life, mom' in a 'bad comedian' voice

then we laughed

seemed lorrie moore-esque

this feels really self-indulgent but i guess the nature of blogging is kind of self-indulgent so it's okay i guess...

2010-04-05T13:49:00.008-04:00

whenever i'm at a stop sign or red light i feel like people are staring at me

also when i walk down the street, i'm pretty much constantly worried about people staring at me, though i'm not sure what would be bad about that

i have so many unpublished blog posts

would people be interested in a chapbook of my unpublished blog posts? it would be cheap, like, $3 probably

feeling nervous about asking that... maybe forget i asked that, i don't know

last night i slept over at my mom's apartment

i woke up at 5 a.m. and ate food that made my mouth feel weird/sticky and couldn't fall asleep again

this morning she got a package of 'make your neck smaller' cream from the home shopping network

she laughed kind of hysterically to herself while she put it on, sitting on the couch

i think she asked me questions while she was putting it on, or maybe she just talked to herself

shortly after that i left

'shortly'

...

whenever i come back to my apartment i feel very alone, but not sad. sometimes sad, i guess. i don't think i ever feel 'fulfilled'

there have been many days in the past 1.5 years where i just sit in different places in my apartment and have minimal thoughts, or maybe worried thoughts, or maybe just thoughts like 'i want to eat (this),' or envisioning successful conversations i'll have someday

seems like i'm constantly worried that i'm making bad decisions without being aware of it, that i will continue to do that and maybe grow old 'emily grimes style'

i had to do a reading for a class i'm in and some people said i seemed 'endearingly shy.' that made me feel good/continues to make me feel good, but writing it down right now makes me feel retarded

most of the time i think i want to be lying down, listening to quiet noises

victoria trock/trott's blog is really good

i wrote this blog post without editing it or anything, except to write 'i wrote this blog post without editing it or anything'

food

2010-02-13T23:04:00.008-05:00

whenever i smell wasabi peas i think 'brine shrimp' and feel kind of uneasy, but i still enjoy eating them.

one time i heated up v8 and pretended it was soup. it was good.

my dad and i used to go to diners when i was little and i'd always get a new york strip steak, because of the word 'strip.' i thought i was being 'bad' because it contained a word that was also in 'strip clubs,' like, probably strippers ate a lot of strip steak.

a former roommate of mine liked to dip pork rinds in hummus.

i once caught another former roommate of mine eating clorox. she was really embarrassed about it, but told me she always eats a little bit of it when she uses it, because she likes the smell. i thought it was cute/endearing.

i've been eating oatmeal that 'expired' in august '09, seems okay though.

from october 2003 - january 2004 i probably consumed the most calories per day in my entire life. i was really depressed. mostly i ate chicken strips/fries from this place in philadelphia across from my apartment, then when i moved back to maryland i think i had mcdonald's/wendy's 3-4 times a week. gained 30 pounds (then lost it).

i have 4 different kinds of mustard in my refrigerator.

i bought dulse awhile ago and i'm afraid of it.

i drank coconut water once and it reminded me of semen.

cilantro is my favorite herb/spice. it makes me nervous to chew mint or other leafy herbs. it feels dangerous.

i have licked chocolate syrup off of a penis.

a few nights ago, i was very drunk and started eating this olive hummus with 'pretzel crisps.' as i ate, i watched the last 10 minutes of 'the other boelyn girl' on hbo or something. i keep trying to eat the hummus/chips again but every time i eat one, i have a mental picture of natalie portman looking sad before her head gets cut off, which doesn't really bother me, but it's not what usually happens when i eat hummus/chips, so i feel kind of disoriented.

i've eaten an entire jar of pickles in one sitting.

i used to eat ketchup packets from fast food places. i still do sometimes. like, suck on them, gradually.

kind of can't believe sprite is a soda, like, how is that a successful soda? it seems so much less 'hard' than cola or fruit flavored sodas. i like it, though.

i probably consume, on average, anywhere from 800-1400 calories per day.

if i had to have sex with any food, penis-shaped things aside, it would probably be rice noodles. like, with no sauce. the texture is kind of 'sexy,' i think.

i have over 100 drafts of blog posts and only 46 actual blog posts, haha

2010-02-01T09:13:00.007-05:00

i think my next relationship is going to be with a moody/depressive/highly emotional guy because i want to feel like 'the calm one'

lately, when driving, i have mental pictures of somehow making a small mistake and my car spinning out of control, then i get impaled by an oncoming car

also, when walking down stairs, i think i'll trip and my shin bones will become detached from my knees and i'll be lying there with these bloody stumps

the ligament or whatever it is that holds my knee to my shin bone doesn't seem powerful enough somehow

when talking to people, i fear somehow messing up conversationally and a series of small but catastrophic events occurring, maybe resulting in the other person's eventual hatred of me

i'm pretty sure every day i mess up really badly, conversation-wise

yesterday i was talking to my new co-worker about alcohol

we had been having a really good, 20 minute conversation about other things prior to talking about alcohol

she said she has friends that drink to get wasted

i said sometimes i do that

then she said "oh"

then neither of us said anything for ~15 minutes

then i think i said something like, "i think i drink because i'd rather not be in a social situation and drinking makes it easier and more fun, like, i worry less, but, i'd rather be at home or something usually, except for maybe sometimes, i don't know"

then she said nothing

then i said, "do you think i'm an insane alcoholic with social problems"

then she kind of laughed and said no

i felt really bad

last night i had a dream that strangers kept approaching me on the street and asking me when i was moving out of my apartment. then my building maintenance guy told me someone else had taken over my lease and i was getting kicked out. woke up scared.

"blogging about insecurity and irrational fear..."

feels like this blog post is 'overcooked' or something, sorry

2009-12-01T01:57:00.009-05:00

there are fat girls drinking margaritas everywhere, uploading photos to facebook

that is not good or bad, i have no feelings about that. i imagine the fat girls not drinking high calorie drinks anymore and the fat literally melting/evaporating off of them. like, they deflate. what if all fat people in america did that. why do i care. i don't care. what am i saying.

lately i keep thinking, "my life is a sitcom and i'm a minor character with a shitty subplot"

this thought is provoked especially when i am walking to class, smoking a cigarette, then i trip on something

this thought is also provoked after drinking enough to vaguely remember embarrassing myself

this thought is also provoked when i think about being a 24 year old person in college for 6 years, living alone in a messy apartment, taking xanax and falling asleep with her mouth open watching hulu, well-liked by acquaintances but too antisocial and not confident enough to be regularly text messaged, allowing herself to write this sentence, taking herself too seriously

may have put on five pounds all on my ass, ass pounds, five ass pounds, five pounds in the ass, pounding the ass

there is a baltimore club song that goes "make room for the big girl!" i think, they just repeat that phrase over a club beat for a long time, baltimore club music is funny

i can't eat sushi without thinking about the interior of human skin anymore. last night i ate sushi with some classmates and i couldn't stop thinking "i'm eating someone's mouth right now." then i was like, "mmm, it was good"

my refrigerator smells like moss, should i be worried

that will be the title of my memoir: "my refrigerator smells like moss, should i be worried"

this is dumb

blog entries in this blog are not poems or stories or anything, they are blog entries. i'm not sure if this is bad, what are blogs for, what should blogs contain, i forget

there are girls everywhere, making "sexy faces" into cameras while thinking "mm, so sexy, everyone is going to see my true inner sexiness now," taking themselves very seriously

not all of those girls are fat

2009-11-23T17:14:00.009-05:00

yesterday i went hiking with my friend who likes to call our version of hiking "climbing mountains" so she feels more productive and possibly bad ass. i can't tell if she means "climbing mountains" sarcastically, but i think she does. i like her.

when we "climb mountains" we just get out of breath a lot because we are fairly heavy smokers that lead sedentary lifestyles. we had to stop a lot yesterday. i almost fell into a waterfall kind of thing. she walked back and forth across a fallen tree a few times. then we sat on large rocks for a long time and having conversations that were pleasant but aren't memorable.

her dad was there with us. he took pictures. she likes when her dad takes pictures so she can upload them to facebook and have proof of "climbing a mountain," but she will delete pictures she thinks are unflattering.

later, we went back to her house and her brother, dad, and sister were watching football. the brother was eating a giant bowl of macaroni and cheese looking stuff. he did things to her iphone while i looked at the television, trying to understand football. i started to fall asleep sitting up in a chair. then her brother stood up and screamed "ROCK(something, someone's last name)!!! YES!"

then i tried to fall asleep again. they were still doing iphone things. then i actually fell asleep. then i woke up and the dad was telling the sister to be quiet.

the sister and brother and my friend were all arguing about iphone apps or something. the dad said, "did you hear about that cruise ship they built, a quarter of a mile long." no one paid attention to the dad. then i closed my eyes and pretended to sleep but was awake for awhile.

this blog entry seems kind of stupid and purposeless, but so does this blog in general, and blogging in general, i think, or something, maybe. feels like i'm just making myself write something. oh well.

semi-impersonal short 'news-ish' blog post

2009-11-06T17:04:00.024-05:00

muumuu house published my story, 'clams'. it has ~5000 words. i feel really good about this story/muumuu house publishing it/everything.

another story of mine, 'craigslist missed connection all-star,' is going to be in pear noir 3. it has maybe ~2000 words. i feel excited about pear noir 3.

i haven't left my bed all day. it's getting dark and i haven't turned on any lights yet.

i think i might quit my job and start working night shifts at a grocery store, or become a 'night watchman' somewhere.

this blog post is getting smaller and smaller.

i'm nervous about everything right now for some reason.

2009-10-28T10:08:00.010-04:00

i haven't blogged in three months. i have been planning 'massive multimedia' blog posts but feel unmotivated and defeated by myself every time i go to work on one. so i thought i would do the >1500 word thing tao lin posted on his blog.

here is a book that i found at my work:

i haven't read 'eeeee eee eeee' (or 'it goes eeeeeeeeeeee') yet. tao, if you want this book, i will send it to you.

2040 words about tao lin

1. my experience with tao's writing

my first exposure to tao lin was through my ex-boyfriend in 2007. he was my boyfriend, not ex-boyfriend, at the time. his co-worker told him he needed to read 'bed,' and he did. then he told me i needed to read 'bed,' and gave me his copy to borrow. i still haven't given it back to him and we don't talk anymore. i think i read 'bed' mostly on an airplane ride to and from chicago, and in my parents' house. on the airplane, i got such a strong sense of 'holy shit' when i was reading it that i think i had to stop a few times to sit back in my seat and stare at the seat in front of me, becoming fully absorbed by the feeling of 'holy shit.'

i felt like 'holy shit' because the way the characters thought and behaved related so strongly to my experience of the world in a really private way, like, i never thought anyone else experienced life in that way. i have always felt kind of bizarre and lonely and like people don't see things the way i do. the characters in 'bed' seemed to focus on small, sort of boring and sort of really complex moments that neither had a negative nor positive impact on them, but still seemed important, and were written in a way that highlighted the absurdity of boredom/the human experience. does this make sense? i remember specifically this one character description of a boy who liked to eat sweet things before he took a nap and wake up with a filmy feeling on his teeth. that image is what i think of when i think of 'bed.' that is a part of 'bed.' that is not really a good example of the thing i was talking about, though. i just like that a lot. i also think of 'crestfallen' when i think of 'bed.'

before my exposure to tao lin, i think i felt pretty indifferent about literature in general. writing has always been something i like to do and feel drawn to for some reason, but i was a creative writing minor mostly just to make my psychology major less tedious. i tried to read dave eggers' 'you shall know our velocity' shortly before i read 'bed' and i remember thinking, 'is this really what people like to read?' i pretty much only liked reading kurt vonnegut, j.d. salinger, and short sci-fi stories. i also liked 'still life with woodpecker' by tom robbins a lot, but nothing else by him.

reading tao's blog also exposed me to richard yates, lorrie moore, lydia davis, jean rhys, joy williams, raymond carver, and frederick barthelme. anything i've read by any of those authors has affected me in a similar way as when i read tao's things. i can't quite articulate why. i think because all of them seem very emotional, analytic, sometimes lonely/depressed, sometimes funny/sarcastic, and either overtly or covertly convey an idea of 'life is something that goes on and here we are in it, what is there to do about that.' they all write about human interactions in ways that i experience human interactions, or ways that i could realistically see myself functioning. i don't know if that's because i experience life similarly to these writers or if they're just really good at writing so i feel convinced by their stories or something.

it doesn't feel to me like tao or any of those writers are concerned with seeming 'significant' in a way that khaled hosseini probably wanted 'the kite runner' to be 'significant.' or the way dave eggers wants to be 'significant.' after reading tao and authors that i affiliate with him, i feel inspired to write things. much of my daily mental activity is composed of thoughts about writing/literature. i am unsure of what took that space in my head before 'literature' did.

after reading 'bed,' i looked at tao's blog and read a lot of it. i remember checking it in heavy rotation along with facebook/email/livejournal/myspace for awhile. during that time, i felt very depressed and meaningless. i was unemployed and living at home, had recently dropped out of college, and only really talked to my boyfriend but felt kind of like a burden on him for that because he was a social person and i wasn't. those things were juxtaposed with a pervasive feeling of aliveness because it seemed like i was constantly discovering other people's blogs/stories/poems (either directly or indirectly from tao's blog) that were similar to things that go on in my head. reading those things made me feel less alone.

i have read probably all of the things tao has had published online. i remember talking to my boyfriend on instant messenger while copying/pasting lines of 'hikikomori' to each other that we liked or made us laugh. then we started writing 'hikikomori'-esque emails to each other. then we gave up.

my friend recently asked me for examples of poetry i like, so i was looking through some of tao's things online and read 'hot amoeba ass' and laughed really loud, alone in my apartment. i don't ever really laugh hard when i'm alone, but i laughed really hard and loud. hot amoeba ass.

2. my thoughts about tao's writing career

tao lin promotes himself in ways that seem attention-seeking and annoying to a lot of people. it seems to me that he does it from a very earnest place of 'i want to have a successful writing career,' though. i think tao's promotional methods/publicity stunts are only perceived as outrageous because they are simple and have a clear intention of self-promotion (and not self-promotion disguised as 'your world will mean more if you read my book,' 'you are the one who is benefitting from buying my book,' 'i am quietly suggesting to you that i require your monetary support and am ready to change your life with my great ideas,' etc).

i feel like his methods make the most sense, but people denounce them because they point out the reality of self-promotion -- that it is, in fact, something in the interest of the self to do. sort of like how people avoid itching a really bad ass itch in public for fear of scrutiny, but it makes the most sense and will be the most rewarding to just itch the ass. i think tao lin is successful in promoting himself because he seems to not care what people will think if he solicits people to write >1500 word essays about him for a free book. he just seems like someone who wants to be successful and is pretty innovative in the ways he goes about getting that success.

when i think/hear/read about the things tao does to promote himself, i get a similar sensation i would if someone told me 'i saw your dad wearing a sombrero in traffic the other day.' it's a very warm and silly feeling. good for tao. good job.

from interviews i have read with tao, he seems to be a very straight-forward person who is very certain of his world views and tries to express them honestly and clearly, when asked. i don't know what the future holds for tao lin. i can imagine him making lots of money and having a really clean, gigantic, minimalist, moby-esque apartment somewhere. i liked in 'sfaa' when sam met moby, because it was really awkward, and from what i've seen of moby (mostly just the moby episode of 'cribs'), he seems similarly ultra-introverted in a way i see tao lin being. kind of like the complete opposite of if jeffrey dahmer and ted bundy ever met, but the same chemistry.

i am excited for 'richard yates' and like the titles 'richard yates' and 'shoplifting from american apparel' probably the most out of any book titles i've seen. i work at a book store so i see a lot of book titles. i feel like tao will probably never stop being disciplined with his actual writing process or innovative with his ways of promotion, and his audience seems to be expanding, so i think success will come naturally to him. every person who i've shown tao's writing to has had a really positive reaction, even people who i initially thought wouldn't like it.

3. my experience with tao as a person

i have met tao two times in real life. when i first met him i had an unintentionally animated (or something) reaction to his tattoos and he looked visibly afraid. later that night he offered me some guacamole, plain, and i had an unintentionally confused/adverse reaction to that. thinking about these reactions makes me laugh a little. i think he had an idea that i had a desk job or something.

at a barbeque/reading the next day, there was a lot of free food. i remember feeling impressed and worried about tao's ability to eat so much free food. a lot of it was meat, i think. i had a perception that tao was maybe a militant vegan, but i was relieved that he wasn't one of those 'hardcore vegan assholes.'

later, a few of us were standing outside drinking beer. we were all standing really close to the door. the cops came and wrote me, brandon, chelsea, and someone i don't know tickets for public drinking. they wanted to write buttercup up but he was underage and really drunk and passed out somewhere inside. then a cop was asking if we saw a 'male, black' anywhere. i think i laughed and people repeated 'male black' a lot. buttercup is a black male.

the cops got all of our licenses and people were kind of quietly submitting to authority with a lot of disdain. as this was happening, tao asked me if i wanted a hot dog and put one on the grill for me. the ticket-giving process was taking an unusually long time. at some point tao said, 'megan, your hotdog is ready.' he brought me my hotdog. i asked him where the condiments were and he told me. the cops were aware of this happening, i think. i think we were both laughing a little. then i think tao went inside. the cops just sat in their car for a long time, doing nothing.

when he came to baltimore for a reading, we went out to eat with a group of baltimore writer people who i didn't know. the people all seemed to know each other well enough to tease each other. they were friendly. it was nice going out with them. tao and i sat next to each other and were mostly quiet, but i think tao was a little bit quieter than me. his food was really spicy and he asked for olive oil. the olive oil made it less spicy. i gave him a ride back to his hotel and we talked about internet-related things.

tao seems like a kind, quiet person who doesn't move his eyebrows very much. i felt like i shouldn't make any sudden movements around him. i am always worried i will trip and fall down, but i think i felt an extra awareness of not wanting to trip and fall down around tao lin. he let me and two friends i was traveling with stay at his/zachary's/jamie's apartment in new york, which was really unexpected and generous. his girlfriend, sarah, is really nice and writes comics which i like a lot and would recommend highly to most people. tao, zachary, jamie, sarah, brandon, chelsea, miles, and pretty much everyone i met that weekend seemed very welcoming and like they wanted me to feel comfortable and didn't think i was an asshole. i have really warm, positive feelings about that weekend.

i feel like i should talk about 'sfaa' because i have read it twice and have only mentioned it briefly in this blog post. i already have a lot more than 1500 words. how did i write this much. what the fuck. i liked 'sfaa' a lot. i will review it on amazon soon and that will be where i talk about it.

2009-07-29T20:31:00.004-04:00

can't decide if i want to buy beer or cigarettes right now, down to last $11 until tomorrow

can't decide if my recent haircut has a negative correlation between 'ability to look like a hipster girl' and 'objective attractiveness'

can't decide if i'm actually hungry or if i just feel a need to be hungry because i've only eaten a salad and banana today

can't decide if going to work, coming home, sitting in bed, writing a little, looking at the internet, drinking a beer and listening to beat happening for the past two nights is a totally worthwhile or totally worthless existence

can't decide if my dad offering me weed in an email is really awesome or really fucked up

can't decide if i want to call back everyone who's called me or never call anyone ever again

can't decide if i want to drop out of school and become a truck driver right now or finish school and then become a truck driver

okay i just decided i will finish school

maybe

fuck

can't decide if this blog post is infinitely stupid

will not post this, i am sure of it

no, okay, i will post it

it is impossible to make a blog post without being aware of blogging, jesus. hi i'm blogging right now

2009-07-20T22:04:00.009-04:00

today i didn't have work and couldn't get out of bed until like, 3 p.m.

i kept sleeping and then not sleeping and having thoughts about other things i needed to be doing

then i tried to make myself do errands but the valve broke off of my bike tube when pumping air into it

so then i said 'fuck it' and walked to the harbor and sat on federal hill reading for a long time

i'm consciously avoiding social interactions, and i'm not sure if that's good or bad. it feels okay, not really different than before, maybe i'm a little more calm or something, and it looks like other people are having more fun than me all of the time

maybe i should stop doing that before people start forgetting about me in their weekend event planning

i am resisting getting a beer right now. i have to either go to the gym or do laundry tonight, i really really have to

one time when i was drunk i got ambitious and decided to do a yoga tape. i kept losing my balance and during the 'floor meditation,' i fell asleep. i feel like if a montage of this were on youtube it would have the potential to go viral and maybe 'ruin my life'

maybe i will just sleep for 10 minutes and then do laundry

i just want to sit around and drink beer

my friend called me a little earlier but i couldn't get to the phone, then i immediately called him back, no answer, texted 'yo i'm here what up,' no answer, ~2 minutes later there was a voicemail, checked voicemail for the first time in weeks, he had left me a ~1.5 minute long message of himself doing dishes, ~15 minutes later got a text saying 'this was my shitty phone accidentallycalling,' feel like this is 'the story of my life' or something, haha

i just want to sit around and drink beer

i keep hearing my cell phone alarm go off in my head and it is making me anxious

2009-07-10T21:43:00.007-04:00

i told my friend i couldn't go out tonight because i felt feverish but really i just didn't want to perform socially and get too drunk and fall off my bike

there is this big music thing this weekend that i should be excited about, that i might be excited about tomorrow

i haven't really eaten in the past two days, i don't know why, it feels weird, my jeans feel loose

i don't know why i'm writing any of this down right now, i feel like the ethos of a blog post is 'teehee, i'm trying to portray casual indifference while secretly knowing that i'm very important, obviously i am important because i have an audience,' because i know that shouldn't i be immune to it or something?

i just said 'ethos of a blog post'

what an asshole

okay whatever

when my friend first visited my apartment he said it smelled great but the last time he came over i said, 'sorry, i need to clean,' and he said, 'yeah, smells like it'

then i wouldn't let him use the bathroom until i cleaned my cat's litter box

a few years ago i kicked him out of my parent's house because he told me my feet smelled

we argued for a really long time about my feet smelling, like from a car ride to my house then maybe 15 minutes at my house

he couldn't believe i was kicking him out and he said, 'fine!' and i said, 'you are being a jerk right now,' and he said, 'fine!' i think, something like that

stupid

i made myself eat half of a subway sandwich because i need to eat something. i sat at subway alone, reading and eating for the purpose of sustaining life rather than fun

some acquaintances sat at the table next to me and i felt uncomfortable. they ate in silence and that made me feel comfortable. when they left, one of them said 'hey megan,' but i didn't think he meant me so i didn't look up, then he banged his hand on my table and i jumped and looked extremely surprised and he laughed and acted apologetic and i didn't know what to say but i smiled a lot and i think i said 'have a good day' but it's nighttime

after that i was in the park reading until things started to bite me

i walked home and heard 'bohemian rhapsody' playing somewhere either in traffic or in someone's house

hearing 'bohemian rhapsody' makes me insanely happy no matter what, and i don't know if i should feel embarrassed about that

i have no idea what the song 'bohemian rhapsody' means, but 'bohemian rhapsody' is extremely sure of what it means, to the point of being maybe the most melodramatic of any song, it seems funny to me

'bohemian rhapsody' is like a blog post because it takes itself very seriously

i made it my sole purpose in life to find where 'bohemian rhapsody' was coming from

i looked around a lot and stared places

i accidentally stared at this fat guy and he looked interested

he thought i wanted to have sex with him, probably

i wanted to yell, 'DON'T THINK WE'RE GOING TO HAVE SEX'

most of my social duties consist of trying to convince different groups of acquaintances that a different group of acquaintances is my primary group of friends

there are text messages and emails that i have never responded to and i want to have an answer to why i haven't responded to them but i don't

i just took an online quiz in my head and found out that i am 58% more concerned with not smelling bad than most people my age, which isn't a lot, but it's 'above the curve' i guess

i just took another online quiz in my head and found out that the disney character who my personality most resembles is the dick that some guy painted into the cover of 'the little mermaid'

'during my nervous breakdown i want to have a biographer present' and 'the brandon book crisis'

2009-06-18T00:40:00.006-04:00

i have been avoiding this blog and i have no reason for doing that. if anything there are more reasons for me to 'be around' the internet more and make more of an internet presence or something. i'm kind of meta-frustrated with myself, like, i keep on wanting to work on 'writing things' and 'building an internet presence,' but i'm resistant, and i'm frustrated at my resistant feelings since i can't trace them back to a concrete example. don't know what's going on. probably low self esteem.

i had a poem published on cookiebomb. i wanted to publicize that more, but then the subject of the poem would've probably read it and that would make our relationship more complex. writing that sentence made me feel strongly that i never want to write again for a period of about three seconds. feeling is over. is this incredibly stupid right now? fuck.

i'm not sure what my review would contribute that other reviews haven't, probably should've written it sooner. 'oh well.'

'during my nervous breakdown i want to have a biographer present'

i received this book at work. i read 3/4 of it on my lunch break, the rest in the car after work, and again just now. i read 'i feel kind of alienated someone teleport me to tokyo' aloud to my mom on the phone and she said, 'oh my, that's really beautiful and sad and longing,' and sounded emotional. i felt extremely engrossed reading it on my lunch break, enough so that i only ate one piece of pizza, even though i was very hungry. there were many times where i felt not sure if i've previously had a thought described, or if it relates to me so much that i could have had that thought independently without first reading the poem (this is a good sensation, recreating this sensation is what initially draws me to reading/writing).

if i were in a poetry class/workshop and we were talking about the book, i would probably comment about outer space/sci-fi imagery being congruous to feelings of extreme isolation. i liked all of the outer space/sci-fi imagery, i think about outer space a lot. the poem 'terror' was not what i expected it to be when i read the word 'terror,' but after reading it i felt a strong sense of 'terror,' and looked at pictures of astronauts where the earth was visible in the background and felt extremely afraid of heights and small in the universe and like 'what is anyone doing here, why are there human beings here.' for some reason, feeling like that seems important to me, and there are a lot of moments in brandon's poems that i think geared me towards thinking that way.

there is a lot of surreal, sometimes violent imagery, which i thought was startlingly creative without being 'show-y' or intent on disengaging the reader. i like the image of expanding into a giant flesh thing the size of a volcano and all of the things that happen after that. images like that seem surreal enough to be dream images to me. since these images were presented with conviction in the poems, it was not similar to the experience of hearing someone's dream, rather being in it alongside them in the dream. listening to people tell their dreams is (most of the time) boring, but the experience of dreaming itself is very interesting, so that's why dream-moments like that in poems were interesting to me. 'do not let me alienate you because i am small and afraid' also has a similar 'bringing the reader directly into the experience' effect, where the experience is being dissatisfied with the poem as it is being written. the poem felt like something large that needed to be defeated, and reading it created a sense of urgency in me. i felt accomplished after brandon felt accomplished.

i want to say something about empathy, feeling empathetic vs. sympathetic, how brandon's poems create a sense of empathy and therefore are unique in that i think most poetry has other objectives. i also want to say something about how it seems like in general, the poems are kind of like putting cognition under a microscope, and live in that version of reality that i think a lot of people experience but don't take time to really consider.

a lot of the poems seem concerned with quantifying experience as a form of validation of existence. they seem to be saying 'i exist' in a way that's completely unbiased (i.e. not 'i exist to talk about the outrageous beauty of nature,' 'i exist to talk about coping with terminal illness,' 'i exist to talk about relationships with parents'), so in a way, i think all humans should be able to relate to them.

there is a lot of poetry i don't like reading because it seems like it's constructed as a riddle or puzzle for the reader. it's implicit that the reader is either 'smart enough' to already understand what the poem is about, or will spend a lot of time thinking about the construction of the poem and trying to figure out what it means a) objectively, b) to the reader, c) to the poet (mostly a and c, though). the poems in 'during my nervous...' are the opposite of these poems, i felt my brain being engaged and was able to relate concretely to images/sensations/thoughts/etc. in the book. it didn't seem like brandon was trying to convey 'i am a skilled, t.s. eliot-like poet who is beating you in an intelligence contest,' it seemed like the opposite.

that is not to say that the poems weren't well crafted or it wasn't evident that thought and consideration went into them. i mean more that the poems were extremely honest both subject-wise and construction-wise, which strengthened them for me on both levels. this is the kind of poetry i like to read. this is the kind of anything i like to read, really.

'the brandon book crisis'

i read this before actually reading brandon's book. tao lin sent it to me as a .pdf file and i read 3/4 of it as soon as i got it. i don't know how long it took me, but definitely less time than it would take me to read 3/4 of a standard novel or something. whenever i read 3/4 or more of something in a single session, it's because i feel very interested in it. i finished the rest when i received the physical book.

reading 'the brandon book crisis' reminded me of when i was 11 or 12 and had all of this aol instant messenger 'friends' and we would talk on the internet all day, and i started printing and compiling all of our aim conversations to re-read later. sometimes i would 'step back from myself' and think, 'is this too voyeuristic or something? is it appropriate to read this?' but i think that's the same feeling that compels a lot of people towards 'people-watching,' watching reality television, having blogs or youtube accounts, being on social networking websites, etc. a lot of people like to pretend they don't have that curiosity about other people's lives, but it seems stupid to me to deny yourself something arbitrary like that/pretend a feeling doesn't exist.

the format of a gchat is very easy to read, it naturally draws the reader's eye down the page and makes 'reading as a task' very satisfying. this was kind of a 'meta-book,' a book about making a book, and at the end, a book about making a book turning into a book. i would like it if all books came with a book like this as a supplement, the way dvd's come with director commentary. 'the brandon book crisis' had a similar way of emphasizing the drama of the 'inner world' that appears a lot in 'during my nervous....' when the words 'crisis' and 'nervous breakdown' are normally considered, images come to mind of people freaking out and throwing dishes or sweating a lot and breathing heavily. the feelings of urgency were just as real in this book as they would be in a person running from the cops or something, just taken in a different context.

sometimes i felt myself getting lost in the technical terms, and like, 'damn, compiling a book seems hard, way to go guys.' every time the day changed, i laughed, the all caps font made it seem very dramatic. the way the book was structured, that it was even a book at all, seems very 'tongue in cheek,' but also self-aware, and therefore appealing.

sometimes i think about what people are going to say about the state of literature today, what they're going to teach english majors in 50 years, what 'movement' will define the early 2000's, if the internet literary community will be studied or mentioned, if some kid will discover brandon scott gorrell or tao lin the same way i discovered richard brautigan or richard yates and felt extremely empathetic with a person much older than they are, etc. this seems like a 100% original idea for a book, and like something that will probably have some kind of significance 'down the road.'

short story

2009-05-27T22:45:00.009-04:00

i entered but did not win brandon scott gorrell's short story contest. my story was a "maybe." there is a lot of shit talking going on about this contest right now. if there ever exists a text book about the history of the internet, and there is a chapter on shit talking in the internet literary community, this contest might be mentioned.

after reading the winning story, i can see why mine did not win. overall i feel really good about the contest. i think it would be sweet if other contestants also posted their stories on their blogs or something. it would be sweet to read the other stories, "just for fun," i'm curious about what people wrote.

RIHANNA GOES TO THE HOSPITAL

Rihanna fell off Chris Brown’s fixed gear bike when she was drunk. She wanted to try riding it, and he let her. She landed on her left elbow. When she hit the pavement, the initial intensity of the pain was shocking and after its peak, faded to a stable and constant ache. She untangled herself, got up, and walked the bike back to Chris Brown’s house. They were hanging out with T-Pain and watching wrestling. Chris Brown and T-Pain were laughing at the television.

“So, I think I fucked up my arm,” she said.

“Oh shit, what happened?” said T-Pain.

“I just wiped out or something, I don’t know, I forget how it happened, but I landed on my elbow and it hurts a lot, I feel dumb,” Chris Brown looked at the television again.

T-Pain got up and looked at her arm without touching it. “It looks okay, can you move it?”

“I think so, yeah,” she said, and moved her finger joints. She looked at Chris Brown. “I didn’t fuck up your bike or anything.”

“Good,” he said, “sorry you fell down, newbie.” He smiled at her in a way that made her feel like he was vividly picturing her going down on him.

Rihanna laughed through her nose and wanted to think about things that were not her arm or Chris Brown. Their relationship was unclassifiable, she thought about it a lot, and was seventy-six percent sure Chris Brown did not. She finished her gin and tonic and began to feel very drunk. T-Pain said that everyone needed to shotgun a beer, which neither Chris Brown nor Rihanna had ever done. They stood in the kitchen by the sink listening to T-Pain give instructions and demonstrate the procedure. Chris Brown and Rihanna looked excitedly at each other and at T-Pain. Everyone was smiling. T-Pain took out another beer for himself. He poked holes in Chris Brown’s and Rihanna’s cans for them. They all put the beers up to their mouths and popped the tabs. T-Pain finished first, then Rihanna, then Chris Brown. Rihanna felt proud that she finished her beer before Chris Brown, and smiled a little bit.

T-Pain went out to the porch to smoke a cigarette. Chris Brown sat on a chair across from Rihanna, who was sitting on the couch. Chris Brown felt drunk, but wanted to appear in control. They were silent for twenty seconds. Rihanna was no longer conscious of her arm feeling pain.

“Your hair looks really good like this, by the way,” Chris Brown said.

Rihanna felt a surge of kindness and attraction towards Chris Brown. “Thanks, I like it too, I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah, it’s looking good.” he said.

They held eye contact, stood up in unison, leaned over the table between them and kissed each other on the lips. It was soft and quiet and lasted for three seconds. Rihanna said “oh,” and Chris Brown said something that neither of them would remember. As they sat down, they both looked in the direction of the porch to see if T-Pain had noticed.

After T-Pain came back inside, time passed in an accelerated way. Everyone kept drinking and interactions were very clear in the moment, but their ability to be accurately remembered longer than directly after they happened diminished. Sometimes Rihanna would forget that her arm was injured, bump it against something, and feel a sharp pain. When she wasn’t speaking or about to speak, she was determining how she would need to maneuver things so that she could end up having sex with Chris Brown. She was fairly certain that they would have sex tonight, and that maybe all she would need to do is say, “I want to have sex with you tonight,” or maybe not even that, she could just pull him close to her when it felt appropriate.

T-Pain got tired and announced that he would be sleeping on the couch. Rihanna followed Chris Brown upstairs. They entered his room, he immediately shut the door. Without saying any words, they grabbed each other’s faces and kissed each other for what felt like fifteen minutes but were probably two. Chris Brown unzipped Rihanna’s jeans as she took off her blouse. She felt fulfilled. When she would later recall having sex with him, she would most fondly remember a series of images: the soft yellow glow of his paper lamp, his dick against his stomach, pieces of hair in her eyes and mouth, his face underneath her, looking at her calmly, his voice instructing her to kiss him when she thought he had forgotten.

*

In the morning, the pain in Rihanna’s arm was as strong as it was when she initially fell. She was alone and naked in Chris Brown’s bed. She was glad he wasn’t there because she could tell that her breath smelled offensive. She heard the television downstairs and fragments of conversation between Chris Brown and T-Pain. Outside, someone was shouting something in a voice that was neither angry nor excited. When she was a child at sleepover parties, she would pretend to be asleep until everyone left in the morning and her mom picked her up. Now, she felt the same strong desire to pretend to sleep. She imagined spending the entire day lying in bed, moving reflexively in a two foot radius. When Chris Brown would come up to his room at night, he would see her sleeping and shut the door quietly behind him. It seemed almost possible.

She stayed in bed for another six minutes, replaying the events of last night while keeping her eyes focused on Chris Brown’s dresser. A large mirror, an opened bill, and three pens were on the dresser. As she got out of bed, she realized her arm was swollen and almost unable to bend. She had to move differently to accommodate it. She stood up and saw that her bra was under Chris Brown's bed. She got down on the floor and reached for it. Chris Brown and T-Pain laughed hard at the television downstairs. She thought Chris Brown and T-Pain would hear her moving around and feel confused about what she was doing. She felt a mild panic which left as soon as she found something else to think about.

Rihanna approached the mirror on the dresser and studied her face for pimples. She only saw one small one that was ready to pop. She popped it with her right hand, it didn’t take much effort. It splattered on the mirror a little. She felt intensely satisfied. She looked at the splatter and thought, "that's right." She wished more things in life were as immediately rewarding as popping a pimple.

She walked down the stairs, holding her arm at an awkward but comfortable angle.

"Damn," said T-Pain, "that shit looks fucked up now," he laughed in a way that comforted Rihanna.

"I know, it wasn't this bad last night, I don't think," she said.

"That is one fucked up looking arm," Chris Brown said to T-Pain. He comically over-enunciated his words. Rihanna looked at him and shrugged. She attempted smiling, but instead her mouth just spread horizontally across her face. She thought her ears were pulling the ends of her mouth with invisible pieces of rope.

"Yeah, I think I should probably call out of work today, maybe go to the doctor or something," she said.

Chris Brown moved his eyebrows close together, "you actually probably need to go to the hospital," his voice had a seriousness that surprised Rihanna. She was not sure what to say, but continued looking at him. She pictured two Pokémon sitting on either side of him, trying to groom him. She worried that her face would somehow convey this.

"Yeah, well, maybe you're right. It hurts pretty bad," she said, still picturing the Pokémon next to him. She felt removed from this and all situations inside of concrete reality.

T-Pain offered to take her to the hospital on his way to work. Instead of talking, they listened to the Misfits, and sometimes sang along. The sun was very bright, and drew Rihanna’s attention away from her arm. She felt peaceful. Her right arm was resting on the unrolled window.

There were three spots of bird shit on the windshield. T-Pain turned on the windshield wipers and the bird shit became transparent and carried away by the fluid. Microscopic pieces of bird shit landed on T-Pain’s left arm and Rihanna’s right arm.

*

T-Pain accidentally dropped her off at the wrong area of the hospital. She walked past the desk receptionist and followed signs to the emergency room. A very dark-skinned janitor was about to pass her in the hall. She wondered if she should make eye contact with him or look fascinated at something on the floor. He started whistling, so it felt impossible not to look at him.

“Happy Easter,” he said. Rihanna didn’t know that it was Easter. She said, “oh, thanks, you too.”

Without looking at anyone else in the waiting room, Rihanna approached the receptionist and told her what happened. They were pleasant to each other. She received a bracelet with her name and birth date on it, and was told her name would be called soon. She had an overwhelming urge to drink a Fresca and an equally overwhelming urge to sleep. Both urges felt like they existed outside of Rihanna, if she was not feeling them at that moment then someone else would be.

She looked around the waiting room. A child was making high-pitched, meandering noises. His mother said, “just eat.” Twenty seconds later she said, “and stop stepping on it!” The child was silent.

Two obese people in sweatpants and shirts with Looney Tunes characters were across from Rihanna. One of them was in a wheelchair. They spoke loudly about kidney stones. Somewhere behind her, a man was humming atonally. She thought it sounded like he was making whale sounds. She felt afraid.

The child began making soft, rhythmic noises that sounded almost sexual. Rihanna uncrossed her legs and got a waft of scent from her jeans. First it smelled like warm bread, then her apartment, then her vagina. She used her peripheral vision to see if anyone was near enough to have potentially smelled her vagina. No one was. She began to read a book of poetry. For forty minutes, she only had thoughts about the poems, the pain in her arm, and wondering when a doctor would want to see her. She would start to have a thought about Chris Brown, but suppress it.

Someone called her name. Rihanna’s back straightened and her eyebrows moved up on her forehead. A light-skinned black girl got up and went through the doors Rihanna wanted to go through. The girl’s name was also Rihanna. Rihanna resumed comfortable posture. She looked around the waiting room and was unsure if new people had come in, or if they had been there the whole time.

She took out her cell phone and started deleting text messages. She selected “mark several” and deleted all text messages except those from Chris Brown. She re-read them and felt almost the same level of excitement as when she first received them.

2009-05-12T00:05:00.027-04:00

muumuu house published two of my things, a poem and a piece of fiction.

i feel really good about this. i feel excited.

blog hits are at rap star levels.

the piece of fiction is called 'everyone i've had sex with.' it is not really fiction in the sense that it is 'false' information, but it is fiction in the sense that memory fictionalizes experiences, i guess. and the names are different.

i didn't write it to be 'outrageous and dramatic' or create any bad feelings in any person, it was just something i wrote awhile ago to take inventory on an area of my life.

it is strange to me that i feel completely comfortable with people who i don't know in real life reading this, but uneasy about people who i do know* reading it. i was objective and fair i think, in describing my experiences. i didn't embellish anything. identities are, on the surface, 'protected'/anonymous. unsure of whether i should tell people i've had sex with about this.

sex to me is just something that people do, it's not good or bad. knowing a person's sexual history has no effect on my opinion of them. i could've written something called 'everyone i've been to target with' and i think it probably would have had the same effect**.

i just thought about re-titling it 'everyone i've been to target with' and i laughed, kind of like it, i don't know.

*edit: people i've had sex with

**edit: not to say that sex isn't an emotional experience, which it is/can be, but i guess i don't place the same 'moral' standards on it as some people i know/i don't understand how someone could be called a bad person because of who they have sex or don't have sex with, seems arbitrary.

this blog post feels futile to me.

2009-05-09T12:37:00.003-04:00

productive tasks of the day, in order:

woke up at 9:05 without an alarm
checked e-mail, facebook, twitter, statcounter, edited things, responded to e-mails
watered plants, fed cats, ate a banana
wiped fingerprints off macbook, put face close to the screen to make sure i was being thorough, felt puzzled at small white dots that don't appear to be coming off, never seen them before
looked in the mirror to see if i looked 'noticably fatter' from eating chipotle yesterday, kind of looked a little fatter
responded to text messages, sent text messages to be responded to by other people, didn't respond to one text message on purpose, felt spiteful and confused and unexpectedly sad and betrayed a little, wondered if i will ever respond to that text message

unproductive tasks of the day, in order:

tried to go back to sleep but unable to sleep
laid in bed conscious of time passing at a slower than normal rate, looked at objects in my room, tried to feel satisfied but mostly felt 'i need to clean'
felt my face for zits to pick at, none really, mild disappointment
tried to mentally reconstruct the physical sensation of being kissed, via memories of good kisses i've had
realistically imagined showering
realistically imagined outfits i could wear today
realistically imagined going to a party tonight
realistically imagined getting an iced coffee and going to the library to do research for a paper
attempted to realistically imagine what my paper is going to contain but felt severely panicked and unable, tried to construct a timeline of productivity to ensure that i will complete the paper by monday at 2 p.m., failed at constructing a timeline of productivity, updated blog

2009-05-05T22:28:00.011-04:00

updating this blog feels almost scary to me now, i feel controlled by my statcounter, and like whatever i say will or will not make people come back, and what does it even mean for someone to 'come back,' why do i care.

there has been a lot of school work so i have not been writing 'creatively.'

feel that i have neglected this blog and have been reduced to generic attention-seeking updates, maybe. but it has always kind of been that way, i don't know. the intention of this blog has been to serve as a placeholder for me in some kind of internet literary movement, like i will develop things eventually and maybe become a part of it, but i feel frustrated that i have had no time to devote to writing things that might contribute to that. writing that made me feel shitty, and like a higher version of myself is rolling their eyes at me. i feel a constant inner battle with modesty and not wanting to be perceived as 'self-important,' but i think i actually am. i hope i also appear funny. here is something funny:

submitted poems to places. nervous. i feel vague about what poetry is, even though i have taken several poetry classes and workshops. when i write a poem i feel like i am extremely drunk and have been given the keys to a very expensive car and told 'go ahead, you know what to do.'

i feel afraid that if i don't write more things i will become less real as a person because i will have less to show for myself. that feels irrational.

i am writing a story for brandon scott gorrell's short story contest. nervous. i should be studying for a final or at a bar right now but i am working on the story instead. i started studying but i stopped because it got too boring.

one time someone linked to me and said my blog was thought-provoking but inane, something like that. actually 'thought-provoking' is not the right adjective, i forget the positive adjective. 'inane' was definitely the negative adjective.

i like to be liked.

concrete forms of validation:
-sex
-laughter
-compliments
-blog hits
-blog comments
-inbox (1)
-notifications on facebook news feed
-@meganboyle replies

i think by posting this, people who i know in real life might think i am 'despicably nerdy and insecure.'

somehow that is not stopping me from posting this. probably because i am despicably nerdy and insecure.

turn my swag on

2009-04-29T11:45:00.004-04:00

i feel completely asexual, in a way where i think i could probably be single forever and it would be okay.

the internet is overwhelming. 'everyone' 'is all' 'like' 'this' on the 'internet' now 'bro.' looks sarcastic.

my feet smell so bad and it is so good.

i feel a surge of positive feelings when i hear "break up" by mario featuring sean garrett and gucci mane on the radio. i have been driving a pontiac grand prix rental car. it has a really good sound system. i listen to hip hop radio extremely loudly in it and crack myself up.

most of the things i feel lately: exhausted, drunk, vaguely ambitious, extreme silliness, bored/completely neutral, hopeless/overwhelmed about small things, resistant to things i "have to" do.

those are actually the feelings that have dominated my late teen to adult life so far, i think.

i wish this missed connection was for me:

http://baltimore.craigslist.org/mis/1149265249.html

and this one:

http://baltimore.craigslist.org/mis/1147750502.html

i don't know what i would do if they were, though. probably nothing. the idea of starting a romantic relationship is very unappealing to me right now, but the possibility of gaining feelings of validation is appealing. i don't know.

those are the only things i feel inspired to say right now.

someone from elmer, new jersey supplies this blog with the most hits.

someone else looked at this entire blog and didn't say anything.

2009-04-26T19:48:00.004-04:00

i started to take a nap and i heard a cat meowing in the alley outside my window. i was almost totally asleep, passively hearing the meowing. an image came into my head of the cat as a giant, cat-sized flea hopping into my window and biting off the tip of my right middle finger. i jumped and gasped and now i am awake.

this blog post is really stupid and i want to take it down but there are 4 comments, that's a lot for me, i don't know

2009-04-15T16:05:00.009-04:00

school causes feelings of "i want to smoke pot until i am stupid," "i will never graduate or gain direction or become successful," and "it is overwhelming how if i become an analyst/therapist my 'professional career' will not actually exist until i am in my thirties, will i enjoy being alive that long, will the experience of constantly being in school wear down so much on my capability to enjoy other things about life that eventually the costs outweigh the benefits and there will be nothing enjoyable about being alive anymore? i don't want to die but i don't want my only reason for being alive to be 'i don't want to die.'"

the third is not actually a "feeling," it's a question i guess. the feeling that results from that question is feeling like it might be nice to curl into a fetal position, be wrapped in hospital gauze or a spider web-like material, and be carefully placed in a large, soft trunk that contains enough oxygen and resources for me to sustain life indefinitely.

why does it seem like people only stay alive until they are 80 because of a self-imposed desire to complete a self-replenishing list of tasks?

oh, i guess they also have children and grandchildren that they love. but what if i don't have children and grandchildren?

where do you have children? how do you find room in this to have children? how have we, as a species, been able to maintain the practice of other people coming out of other people's birth canals for so long? is there something wrong with me for not wanting to have another person grow inside and come out of me?

stupid stupid stupid

it is stupid to say "stupid"

what

stupid

i am now saying "stupid" from an objective place, like from where the word "stupid" originated, that's what i mean now

stupid

earlier i think i meant that i was stupid for having these thoughts, but it is stupid and pointless to have that thought, and then i thought "stupid" objectively, to remove me from the situation

stupid

this whole thing is stupid

i want a sandwich maybe, maybe pizza, fuck

why is this a blog post, i don't even want to talk about this being a blog post, it just is.

in class, my professor was discussing a context that involved him repeatedly using the phrase "reported rapes," and i had a strong urge to raise my hand and have a serious-concerned facial expression and say, "yes, but what about the reported grapes?" then i started laughing semi-uncontrollably (but relatively silently) in my chair and the harder i tried to stop laughing the more i felt like laughing.

writing is not sexy

2009-04-06T13:40:00.007-04:00

i accidentally read an erotic short story in the computer lab and now i have to go to class in fifteen minutes and i feel extremely horny and this is a problem. i thought there was a 30% chance that the story i was reading would turn out to be erotic, and it held my interest, so i kept reading it. this is good, writing makes me feel not horny. when i was reading it i was not conscious of the fact that i was in a school computer lab, i felt like i was one of the characters. actually, i was both of the characters. as soon as i finished the story, i felt suddenly very aware that i was in a school computer lab, and that i had a large neon sign over my head that said "horny," pointing at me. i feel extremely not horny talking about this. writing this was the equivalent of talking someone out of a panic attack very effectively. blogs are useful.

2009-04-04T14:02:00.004-04:00

here is a story about work

i said "hello" to a man
he said "hello" to me
i was tired
he put his books on the counter
i scanned his books into the register
the register told me a price to tell him
i told him the price
he smiled i think
he gave me a twenty dollar bill
i gave him his change
i said, "6.88 is your change"
he said, "great"
i put his books in a bag

i handed him the bag
looked him in the eye
and very naturally and enthusiastically said, "hello!"

i should have said "thank you" or "goodbye"
i was embarrassed
i probably said "oh my god"
he said, "it's okay, i understand"
i was laughing uncontrollably
he walked away
i started crying
not because it was sad
because it was funny.

critical spelling error: for the entirety of this post, please regard "drunkness" as "drunkenness"

2009-03-30T17:33:00.013-04:00

graph detailing the experience of being drunk the other night:

variable definitions:

drunkenness: amount of alcohol ingested which has an effect on behavior. i drank 3 gin-lemonade-iced teas, a few sips of old granddad whiskey, 3-5 beers, 1 "red headed slut" shot

self-perceived attractiveness: how attractive i think i look to other people, opposite sex especially

negative self opinion: thoughts that consist of things like that was the wrong thing to say, you are destined to be alone for a long time, your place/existence in the world is invalid, other people are more relevant/interesting/funny/attractive than you

"poor/destructive decision making" analysis
10:30 p.m. -- intended to walk alone to the ottobar (saw friend on the street instead, walked around)
11 p.m. -- hitchhiking on north avenue, semi-accidental
12-12:30 a.m. -- was aware that i was drinking more than i needed to, began shaky social constitution, perhaps repeated myself, hugged many people and maybe seemed "insincere"
1 a.m. -- left phone at bar, maybe made advances on males at bar but am unsure of this
2:30/3 a.m. -- decision to walk home alone in the rain through a "bad part of town"

social inhibitions: filter against being "outrageous"

perceived "interest"/reinforcement from others: either obvious vocal reinforcements like laughter or compliments, or obvious physical reinforcements like friendly affection, or more subtle reinforcements/cues in behavior like prolonged eye contact, attention/interest devoted to a conversation with me, amount of people listening to me at once.

NOTE: correlation does not equal causation

negative correlations:
amount of "drunkenness" to social inhibitions
amount of social inhibitions to perceived "interest" from others

positive correlations:
relationship between drunkenness and perceived "interest" from others (not including 2 - 3 a.m. time, when i was walking home alone)
relationship between self-perceived attractiveness and perceived "interest" from others (not between the hours 1 - 3 a.m.)
relationship between self-perceived attractiveness and drunkenness (not between the hours 1-3 a.m., when "attractiveness" declined dramatically)

outliers:
relationship between negative self opinion and perceived attractiveness
relationship between negative self opinion and destructive decision-making (i anticipated that these would be positively correlated, this doesn't seem right)
"negative self opinion" variable in general

general notes:

i think a lot of this would be more consistent if subjective experiences did not happen from the hours 12:30 - 2. i remember feeling vaguely and maybe irrationally "rejected" by males in general between 12:30 and 1:30 a.m., especially the 1:00 hour, and probably for no concrete reason, since i can't remember any specific event that would reinforce this.

sometimes when i am drunk it seems like emotions appear out of nowhere, or i will have a memory of a negative experience and it will somehow dominate or put a tone to my thoughts. i think this accounts for most of the outliers, as "negative self opinion" is more of an emotional experience than something that can be concretely justified (at least when i'm drunk).

i think i should maybe add a "wave of intense emotions: positive/negative" variable.

i think the experience of having "waves of negative emotions" is directly related to what i'm drinking and how much i've eaten, but i can't prove that. usually when i just drink one or two things, or things that are the same color, i feel heightened positivity. i don't know what this means. on that particular night i drank many different things, and i think i hadn't eaten in hours.

2009-03-28T20:11:00.009-04:00

i can see my cat's eyes only in my peripheral vision and for a moment felt something like "extremely terrified," floating cat eyes.

more people looked at my blog today than ever. people from maryland who i probably know. i feel both indifferent and highly anxious about this at once, and i'm not sure how that's possible, but it is.

blogworthy

there is a story up on 3:am magazine now, i feel like i don't know what to do now, there is something expected now or something, i didn't think it would be received positively, i am surprised, i have never submitted anything anywhere, maybe i am making this into a "big deal" when it shouldn't be.

here are blurbs from real life:

one coworker says, "full of typos. there is an instance where 'an' should replace 'a.' it was okay."

megan says, "motion picture event of 2009."

mom says, "it's saying 'error: this page does not exist,' did i do something wrong?"

Terius Youngdell Nash

2009-03-21T18:38:00.012-04:00

i'm reading "the end of the story" by lydia davis. in my head vincent physically resembles someone important in my life, and the dynamic they have together is very similar to my last failed serious relationship. i relate to 97% of what lydia davis says, but i'm not sure if it's because i've actually had similar thoughts as her, or if it's because her style of writing makes me think i've had similar thoughts as her. i think a little of both. reading it gives me thoughts like, "ohhh," a-ha," and "yes, very similar to me."

i was feeding my cats cheez-its and one cat threw up a little on my leg. now he's licking his crotch.

the other night i threw up from drinking. then i felt better. then i drank a little more. i had drank four cups of wine, one gin and tonic, one "red headed slut" shot, and two beers. then i threw up. then i drank another beer. this was over the course of probably four or five hours. seeing that written down feels bad. i feel excessive. i feel compelled to say that this doesn't happen often.

that same night, a girl aggressively hit on me. i was with a group of three people. the bar was closing, so we left. outside, there was a crowd of people smoking cigarettes and standing around thinking about what was going to happen next.

there was a girl standing close to the door who was alone and had a worried look on her face, and i was drunk enough to approach her and ask if she was okay. she asked if i could walk her home, because she was "really drunk" and nervous about walking alone. she lived maybe three blocks away. the three other people i was with said we could walk her home.

we started walking and i was asking her about her job and housing arrangements or something. she answered my questions and then she started telling me i was "gorgeous" and asked if i was bi and if i wanted to hook up with her and if i thought she was pretty. i said i wasn't sure of my sexual orientation, but that she was too drunk and probably didn't mean/would regret most of the things she was saying anyway. she kept saying i was "gorgeous" and that she really wanted to "hook up" with me, and maybe said more explicit things. i'm not sure what i said to her.

someone in the group picked up on me being uncomfortable and stopped walking. then i stopped walking. then the girl stopped walking. someone said something about going to my apartment. i felt confused and probably said "well," "i mean," "i don't know," and "what do you think, what are you doing" a lot. this probably happened over a period of two minutes, but it felt like maybe ten or fifteen minutes to me. the girl wanted to come back to my apartment. i said that would be okay, but someone else had a reason why that was not okay, but i can't remember. the girl walked off and was very angry. i said, "okay bye."

i was probably 75% drunk at this point. i was drunk enough to talk to strangers but sober enough to say no to a sexual proposition.

after the girl left us, we were walking back to my apartment. we all wanted to eat something and everyone was saying what they wanted to eat. i said i wanted pizza. my friend cori also wanted pizza. a tall guy in the group said he hated pizza. i have met people who don't eat pizza because it contains cheese or sometimes meat, but i have never met a person who doesn't eat pizza because they don't like the taste. i told him this, but in a very loud voice, and probably jokingly accused him of being an alien or something, and had very exaggerated movements, and probably said "WHAAAAAAT!" and "oh my god" a lot, when he would say things he didn't like about pizza.

we were all laughing as this was going on, there were funny things being said, but i can't remember what they were, or if they even were funny, or if we were just drunk. i made some kind of physical contact with him, "play-fighting," and he pushed or nudged me, and i fell down and skinned my knee and tops of my feet and i was bleeding a lot. he came over and picked me up and apologized sincerely, but we were all laughing about this. i was laughing. i felt ridiculous and "over the top" or something, but good.

other things happened. there was a car and we got lost and were going to go to a korean place and then a diner and then i forget. we ended up at a convenience store in my old neighborhood and got falafel. the guys working there remembered me. they speak with thick middle eastern accents and sometimes i can't understand them, but i smile and shrug at them a lot, and i think we like each other. i like them, anyway.

then one person left and there were just three of us. we went up to my apartment. i think i ate all of my falafel and then felt very tired and went to sleep. it was 4 or 5 in the morning. the tall guy and my friend cori stayed awake and had a "relationship altering talk" or something.

it was a good night. other things happened. those were the most notable. my cat is now "spooning" my leg.

south by southwest

2009-03-16T14:36:00.007-04:00

i make my life harder by imagining negative responses from other humans so vividly that i don't engage in the behavior that could've potentially resulted in a positive response from another human.

2009-03-11T10:28:00.005-04:00

i have a midterm in two hours that i have not studied for. it is for history and systems of psychology.

on the study guide it says, "the wise student will take time to prepare written answers to all these study questions and then study for them. prepare carefully."

most psychologists/philosophers we have studied have undergone severe depression, attempted suicide, were thought by their peers as "freaks" or insane, locked themselves in their rooms, were socially isolated, were either celibate or extremely promiscuous, but rarely found "love."

most of them took a long time to finish school, or dropped out of school, or never went to school and taught themselves.

i feel like knowing these things makes it very hard for me to study for a test in this class.

i feel like i would get along with a lot of these early psychologists.

i started using the internet just now to find out how brentano's act psychology, stumpf's phenomenology, and the wurzburg schoool are reflected in contemporary psychology, because i was absent that day.

my backpack broke and i am ingesting a lot of caffeine. i was sitting in a cafe for awhile writing "i am so fucked" and over and over in the margins of my notes i was studying.

i feel melodramatic.

2009-02-11T11:31:00.009-05:00

when i go outside i try to mentally will the world to "missed connect" me. i concentrate very hard on thinking "you need to craigslist me, you need to craigslist me, you need to craigslist me," while making subtle eye contact.

i was in baltimore's b magazine because of something i tweeted on their twitter page.

i like wavves the band. especially the song "teenage super party."

i drank two full moon beers and fell asleep watching mtv.

i woke up two hours later.

i have been wearing the same thing for four days.

i live in constant fear of obesity.

most of my time on the internet is spent refreshing the same pages repeatedly.

most of the appeal of smoking cigarettes is so i can have something to do with my hands. it takes attention off of what would otherwise be distracting mental processes. i make eye contact better when i am holding a cigarette. their taste has progressed from 'horrible' to 'tolerable' for me.

today i have to go to work and class. i have to take notes for deaf people. fuck.

my evolutionary psychology professor calls all living creatures "critters." he has a desert tortoise named "yortiss" (or "yortoise," i don't know). tomorrow is charles darwin's 200th birthday, so he is bringing cake for us today. i have urges to hug him during lecture. i think he is a good dad, if he has kids.

some days i have zero interesting thoughts. the more busy my life is, the less interesting thoughts i have, i think. my life is rarely busy with things i want it to be busy with, but busy with other things like school and work and errands and bullshit.

most people i know need to "go out" a lot, i don't like going out, but i feel the need to be social.

i tried reading tom robbins the other day but i can't anymore. he is irritating. i think he looks at himself in the mirror for a long time after masturbating. i have a tom robbins tattoo of the cover of "still life with woodpecker." i don't want to talk about it.

2009-02-03T17:14:00.008-05:00

legitimate questions i have:

is it okay to drop off rent directly in my landlord's mailbox, without going through the postal service?

are my cats ever "offended" when i don't want to play with them?

what is the appropriate amount of eye contact for strangers on the street?

will the imagined semi-realistic long term goals i have for my life eventually happen, or will i end up homeless, friendless, and insane?

is it ever possible to know everything there is to know about a given subject?

how does the situation in israel concretely effect my life?

why can't i pee when someone is in the stall next to me?

if what determines my personality is a composite of memories/associations/practiced and reinforced behavior, and i am in control of my mind, is it possible to consciously will myself to forget certain experiences which have caused the creation of what i consider "negative" aspects of my personality?

is it possible to genuinely not care about the opinions of others (and not have chronic schizophrenia or some kind of developmental disorder)?

if every living thing on earth has evolved from single cell organisms, how is there such a variety of living things, were there predisposed origins/intentions like "single cell organism which will become a tree" or "single cell organism which will become an antelope" or "single cell organism which will become a person," like existence pills or something?

technically, how far away from being "alive" is a box (or any inanimate object) -- if a box one day had a single cell grow on it, would that make it kind of "alive?" it is made of atoms and matter, which seem like sort of "alive" things to me, or at least things that exist instead of nothing.

what purpose does it serve to have conscious thought?

how many mistakes can i make before i'm put on "friend probation"?

why do i feel a need to have social relationships?

why am i consistently attracted to men who are either emotionally unavailable or emotionally attached to their ex-girlfriends?

why do i feel the need to justify and create a "purpose" in life?

if i take antidepressants, will i feel better, will i not have these questions?

would my overall life satisfaction improve if i started believing in god?

arm humping:

2009-02-02T16:48:00.007-05:00

i feel self conscious in school computer labs. the monitor of this computer is suspended in the air by a black lever thing, i don't know how to describe it, it is a boring thing that in 500 years will probably be in a landfill and someone will look at it and feel confused as to what we used it for, unless the monitor is still attached to it.

i finished "the easter parade" today. i ate a chicken quesadilla as i read the last 20 pages. i had to stop eating because i felt absurd, almost disrespectful to the characters or something. i felt conscious of "quesadilla," it was distracting me. i resumed eating after finishing the book. as soon as i finished the book, something changed in my stomach. i felt like it was hard to breathe for maybe two seconds. i felt overwhelmed and depressed and like life is sad and meaningless, but also the description of life in the book is extremely accurate and syncs up with a lot of my feelings towards life. since richard yates also articulated this view of life, it almost made me feel less depressed. i felt extremely depressed and not depressed at the same time, which is what i think the "overwhelming" feeling was. i like this feeling. it is comforting and inspiring. i'm conscious of saying "life" and "depressed" a lot in this paragraph.

things i have spilled on this book: coffee, water, tea, small spot of salsa, smudge of pizza. i shouldn't eat while reading. after i finished, i looked at the page which contains the ISBN and i saw that my copy is a first edition. it is hardcover. i tore the dust jacket a little bit. i had a similar experience reading "like life" by lorrie moore, i realized it was a first edition after reading it. it is also signed. i don't really care, i think, though it is exciting to imagine lorrie moore holding something that i am holding. i can explain why that's exciting to me on an emotional level (i admire her), but i can't explain why that's exciting to me on a rational/intellectual level (what purpose does it serve to hold something that someone i admire has held?). i don't care if books are first editions, but i feel like i should, because someone else might. stupid thought.

my blog posts are getting longer.

i'm aware that this is now a blog that is read by other humans, it was just me for a long time. i think i feel restrained or like i have the potential to "let down" readers or something.

blog

i think this is too long, it might not be interesting anymore.

2009-01-31T17:55:00.007-05:00

i'm at work right now.

there are customers walking around, moving at the speed of grazing cows, looking at how high the ceiling is sometimes, trying to orient themselves or something.

i'm very conscious of the noise the keyboard is making. i'm trying to keep my fingers close to the keys so i don't make too much noise. i type extremely fast. i break sound barriers. i want to type type type type to see how fast i can type and impress myself.

typing is making me look busy. if i look busy i do not have to tell you where "angels and demons" is located, or how our book buyback program works, or what time we open sunday.

i feel invincible right now. if a customer exceeded my personal boundaries in any way right now, i would not hesitate to say "what do you think you are doing?" i am overtired/sleep deprived and my muscles feel relaxed and that's why i feel invincible. it feels good. i feel like i'm on a surfboard, surfing a sea of uncompleted homework assignments, flipping off everyone.

randy quaid from independence day just came in. he wanted to know where the ufo books were. when he came up to the register i was yawning as i said "hello," so he made the same voice back, then we started talking like were deaf or retarded. he talked to me about a jack the ripper convention he wanted to go to, but it was $100 for 3 days. that included meals.

a tall guy wearing a shirt that said "pug off!" with a pug dog on it just bought a book i sold back to the store. it was "the salmon of doubt" by douglas adams. he asked why i would sell that book back. i sold it back because i read four pages of it and thought "ENOUGH" and it was crowding my bookshelf. i told him it was because "i don't know... i wanted to simplify" or something. he was nervous-seeming, but jolly, like a dad who wears pajamas and takes his family out to denny's at 9 p.m. or something. i liked him. i said "bye." he said "see ya."

lots of moms today. grandmoms. grandmoms read romance novels and think about masturbating, but might not masturbate.

the ups guy just came in. i like him. he says "hey beautiful" and compliments me on my smile, but in a way that makes me feel comfortable instead of uncomfortable, which is uncommon. i think he wakes up in the morning, pours orange juice, looks at the closed refrigerator door, thinks "i'm going to make this one worth it. i'm going to make this day count," and pours more orange juice. he probably believes in god.

today we talked about the weather a little bit, and school. i think he read in a book that women like it when you ask them questions. "what were you doing in chicago?" "where did you go to school?" "your boyfriend is a lucky man" (who says that?). i said i didn't have a boyfriend. he said he didn't know why, and seemed startled and interested, and asked me if i wanted to not have a boyfriend or if i just don't. i said i don't really want one right now, but i don't know, it's a personal choice i'm making, but if a boyfriend came along i would be okay with it, something like that. then my manager came out and he left. he winked. i feel strange.

i think he does this to a lot of retail-working girls and likes to entertain a fantasy in his head that he is "Stereotypical Sexy UPS Guy That Retail Girls Probably Have Sexual Fantasies About." i don't have sexual fantasies about him. in my interactions with him, i try not to reinforce my imagined bias i think he has/i do not return flirtations. but i like interacting with him, despite these thoughts i have about him. he's pleasant and i think he is nice to small animals.

i made a graph inspired by tao lin's graphs, but i don't like my graph. i made it at school on microsoft excel, right before class, it was rushed. i don't have a program on my mac that allows me to create .bmp images or excel documents, so i can't make another one, unless i am at school. here is my subpar graph. oh no.

a more comprehensive graph about multiple subjects is coming soon, i think.

2009-01-27T21:19:00.006-05:00

amaretto is so fucking sugary.

i'm cleaning out my liquor cabinet tonight.

i went to the gym at 9:30. i walked on the highest incline going 3 mph for one hour. i burned 650 calories. then i did things to stimulate "muscular toning" in my abs and thighs. i stretched. while i was on the treadmill, i read the first 70 pages of "the easter parade" by richard yates. i burn calories and read richard yates books at a similar rate.

today after class, i sat in the student center and finished "a good school" by richard yates and "introduction to evolutionary psychology" by someone named oscar. i liked both of those books. i sat for maybe three hours, finishing these books. the evolutionary psych one was for a class, and it was very easy to read, i finished it in two days. i read "a good school" for fun. it made me almost want to cry at the end, when this one main character cries. i felt sad that it was over. i think richard yates is bill grove. he is also probably several other characters, in different ways. it was a good emotional contrast to the detached, scientific tone of the evolutionary psych book.

i just read another 30 pages of "the easter parade" in the bathtub. someone who i sometimes have sex with text messaged me. i am never going to be the woman he wants, and he is never going to be the man i want, but we will probably resemble "ultimate things we want in a mate" to each other for awhile, and may continue having casual sex. i'm indifferent.

i'm bored and tired of relationships. i feel like emily grimes, a lot. a lot. a lot. except i'm not naturally "very skinny" like she is. i have to make an effort to be skinny. if i didn't monitor my food intake, i would probably be one of those "chubby art girls." i've lost almost ten pounds. i can wear a size 4 again. i feel good. today i ate: odwalla "food bar", orange, handful pistachios, five triscuits with hummus, four almonds. i drank coffee, green tea, hot chocolate and peppermint schnapps, vodka lemonade, amaretto lemonade. i'm trying to drink all the shitty alcohol i have, so i can replace it with better alcohol. if i finish this amaretto, i will have zero alcohol left in my apartment. it feels hard to concentrate on one subject right now. i'm getting drunk. more drunk.

it is snowing in baltimore. snow alleviates my mood an automatic 10 percent.

i like night better than day.

i don't know if i can drink all of this, i'm starting to feel sick and dehydrated.

there are dynamics in my family and interpersonal relationships that relate 100% directly to emily grimes, in a way that almost feels eerie to me. i am afraid to see how this book ends, because i don't think it will have a happy ending, and i will probably over-identify with it.

i want to eat chinese food.

i want to wrap myself in a burrito of bedding.

i want to skip classes and work tomorrow.

i want to be quiet for 50 hours.

i want to eat ten chicken nuggets.

that is all.

dwayne michael carter, jr.

2009-01-26T11:15:00.014-05:00

last night i slept next to "a good school" by richard yates. i only wore underpants. i fell asleep with a kleenex up my right nostril. i woke up and i thought "i am fucked" and "this is probably how a lot of lonely computer programmers fall asleep and wake up, except maybe replace richard yates with gamer mags." my cat started humping my arm. or i don't know if it's humping or what, he just mounts my arm and moves his ass and licks my hand. i feel confused by it.

in chicago, my friend jake told me that cats have barbed penises and it's actually really painful when they have sex with each other. it hurts the mancat and the womancat both. he bites her neck so she doesn't run away. the barbs on his penis stimulate some part of her uterus or something.

i'm not sure what combination of atoms and energy or whatever made me made me, but i'm glad that i got made into a human instead of a cat.

my macbook is so dirty. it looks like its owner should be the last person on earth, who has been living in a sewer drain for seven years, who is good at physics and is building a time machine. white is a bad color for things you use a lot.

the other night i went out with two of my coworkers. we went to the peppermill, which is inside a hotel, which is where old people go to drink and talk about the civil war. it's cheap and quiet and right next to work, so we go there a lot. we all kind of have a "tongue in cheek" attitude about going. it's not a hipster bar, dive bar, or nice bar, which are probably the bars someone would guess people who look like us would go to after work. it smells like a retirement home. they have a very plentiful supply of mints and i always take a handful when i leave. everyone is nice there.

i drank four dogfish i.p.a.'s and had a double shot of jack daniels. my female coworker and i got salads. my male coworker didn't get food. we talked about relationships. i mostly listened, and waited for opportunities to say something. one time there was an opportunity to say something, but i didn't have anything to say, so i said, "oh. i don't know." then we were talking about hickeys. i told a story about two of my friends and i. we were sitting around one day and none of us had ever experienced a hickey, so we all decided to give each other hickeys on arbitrary, non-sexual places on our bodies, and then we went to the beach. i thought this story would be funny, because that experience was funny, we were laughing the whole time, but i think my coworkers thought it was deviant and strange. they seemed puzzled that it wasn't a sexual experience. we were quiet for awhile after i told the story. i felt embarrassed and like i needed to drink more.

eventually i think i made enough funny and relevant comments/questions so that i felt like i "broke even," or maybe exceeded "breaking even" and moved into "well-liked."

one coworker went home. he was wearing a skullcap. i have never seen him wear a hat. he was in a band with a guy from jimmie's chicken shack. after he left, my other coworker and i went to this bar which was full of people who listen to the dave matthews band. we sat at the bar. i drank two bud lights and we each did a shot of jack daniels out of a dixie cup. it was extremely crowded and dark. i think we were hit on several times. it was like shitty college party: the bar.

i'm pretty sure we had several different conversations. we could have spent ten minutes or two hours there. i started to feel "too drunk" and not aware of myself anymore. then we left. she asked me if i would be okay to drive. i said yes. it was probably two in the morning.

i listened to lou reed on the way home. i ran red lights in the city. i thought "reckless and stupid, but okay" as i was doing this. i focused my eyes directly in front of me so i could use my peripheral vision to concentrate on the yellow and white lines on the road. i felt like i was playing a video game.

i remember directionless-ly standing in my room and i guess i called seth at 2:39 a.m., but he didn't pick up. then i called this girl i went to high school with and i went over to her apartment. we smoked pot and ate pot brownies with her roommate and this boy who looked like yogi bear's son. i remember feeling like everyone was staring at me. i would say something and there would be a long pause. i felt like i was speaking russian. i think they laughed at a few things i said.

the entire night i do not remember what conversations were had. i feel like getting drunk/stoned with people is sometimes just a way to "pay dues" to a voice inside of me which says "you should be social," it doesn't count as actually hanging out and enjoying the company of others and feeling genuinely connected. at the same time, i don't feel like there is anything morally "bad" about doing it sometimes, it's just something that happens.

when i smoke pot with people sometimes it is a good experience and we all laugh about the same thing. i used to smoke pot with my ex-boyfriend and we would think of ways to make each other laugh, or show each other things on the internet, or go for walks in the woods, or eat fast food, or have sex. when i smoke pot with people other times, i feel extremely alienated and detached. this usually happens when people start talking about politics. when i am sober i already feel defeated when talking about politics. whether i am stoned or sober, when political discussions start to happen, i usually try to busy my hands with something and think of a way to direct the conversation to something that could make everyone laugh instead.

i wish i could hang out with lil wayne, but i feel like he doesn't "hang out" with girls, he mostly has sex with them. if we could just kick it and drink cough syrup and spit 16 bars it would be good.

family patterns

2009-01-13T19:49:00.006-05:00

i am going to only drink lemonade for three days

i am going to dream of a giant fried chicken

i am going to write a text message and save it to drafts

i am going to fall asleep at 3 a.m. with a pillow on my head

my mom is going to watch american idol

my mom is going to heat up jenny craig food

my mom is going to think about getting a job, but not get a job

my mom is going to fall asleep on the couch with her mouth half-open

my dad is going to smoke weed

my dad is going to make a smoothie with a raw egg in it

my dad is going to start reading a book, but end up skimming it

my dad is going to turn on his electric blanket and fall asleep with a towel on his face

i am watching t.v. and feeling sad about failed relationships

2009-01-10T19:33:00.014-05:00

my blood pressure goes up during the period which follows after sending a text message, before receiving a response.

maybe no one will respond to me and i'll end up staying in. but the entire time i stay in, i'll be thinking, "fuck, why isn't anyone texting me back, should i text them again?" so it won't actually be a fun time, i'll be 7% anxious. i should've just not touched my phone today.

being sick/having a cold feels like you're wearing someone else's glasses all of the time.

today i ate a can of chicken soup, papaya, mango, theraflu.

there is a party tonight.

i fell asleep on the couch.

i want to stay in and bake cookies, i think.

maybe i will bake cookies for the party.

will smith is in men in black. he was also in independence day. people like to see will smith reacting to aliens. probably because he's funny and charismatic and seems to be a kind of visual manifestation of the suspension of disbelief it takes to imagine realistically interacting with aliens. he does that by making sarcastic comments, mostly, i think.

my cat jumped in the toilet.

the other day i hung out with steve for a long long time.

we ate at an indian lunch buffet, got stoned at my apartment, looked at the internet and played with my cats. then we were less stoned. then we were just kind of quiet.

the sun was setting. we watched clouds while sitting on my couch. we tried to think of shapes that the clouds looked like. he said one cloud looked like a dinosaur. i said i've never seen a dinosaur. he started laughing and said he loved me. i felt confused and tried to ignore it and have no visible or vocal reaction to it. something like that.

then i tried to work out and he stayed at my apartment, watching msnbc. the walk to the gym was cold and i felt like i was floating. i was still a little stoned, paranoid, and felt detached from my body, so i stopped working out and came back. steve and i laid on my bed and tried to figure out a rubik's cube. i kept telling him what to do, where to move the sections. he said "fine, you try," and gave it to me. i put it down.

all day, the only parts of our bodies that touched were our arms and elbows. when they touched, i was conscious of it, it felt a little bit soft and electric. he has a girlfriend now.

he drove us back to his parent's house. we talked with his mom and dad in the kitchen for awhile. she had made a lot of lasagna. his brother came home. he got a lovebird, it sits on his shoulder. we rented "superbad" and "trekkies." we watched "superbad" with his brother and his mom. we all laughed. then his brother lost his bird and we looked for it. we couldn't find it. it was lost all night, we found it in the morning, it was under someone's coat.

steve and i went outside to smoke the resin out of my bowl. i had never done that before. he said it might give me a headache, but it would also feel good. i said it tasted like pencil shavings.

we went inside and watched "trekkies" while laying on seperate couches. i started falling alseep towards the end. steve said he didn't want to make me sleep on the couch, but if i slept in his bed with him, we'd have to "behave ourselves," so that's what we did.

it was probably 55 degrees in his room. we spooned for awhile with his small dog separating us. the dog stayed between us all night. it was warm. i thought about babies sleeping with parents.

the next day he dropped me off at my car, it had been in the shop. i said i wanted a coconut chocolate chip milkshake. he said he did too. it was a 20 minute drive to the milkshake place.

we drank the milkshakes in his car and made fun of people outside. i felt sick, but i didn't want him to know. then he wanted to see my car. the entire time we spent together, our conversation had a natural and easy flow. i laughed genuinely several times and i think he did too. then he said, "i'll call you next time i have a vacation," which probably means it will be awhile. i felt sad. i tried to not let him know.

"failed relationships"

"everyone has a girlfriend who isn't me"

"boo hoo"

"no one is in love with me"

"other girls are preferred to me"

fuck you sonic burger, for having ads on t.v. all the time, but not existing anywhere near me.

papa john's took "everybody have fun tonight (wang chung tonight)" and instead of "everybody have fun tonight," they made the words, "celebration around the world." stupid.

2009-01-06T20:25:00.002-05:00

Searched for is lotion edible?
8:20pm

Searched for is shampoo edible?
8:20pm

Searched for is hair edible?
8:20pm

Searched for is shrimp edible?
8:21pm

Searched for shrimp and lotion recipes
8:21pm

Searched for shrimp and lotion or shampoo recipes
8:21pm

Searched for how to make shrimp scented shampoo
8:22pm

Searched for how to stir fry hair
8:22pm

Searched for stir fry scented candles
8:22pm

Searched for porn
8:22pm

Searched for sexy sexy porny porno porn
8:23pm

Searched for how to masturbate, eat shrimp, and surf the web all at once
8:23pm

Searched for where can i buy a third arm?
8:23pm

2009-01-03T09:24:00.004-05:00

i read that using alcohol/marijuana before bed makes you spend less time in r.e.m. sleep, and that's when dreams happen. they deprived cats of r.e.m. sleep one time and the cats ended up killing themselves by running into a wall, repeatedly.

2009-01-02T02:27:00.008-05:00

what if humans played with cat toys in the same way that cats play with cat toys, and some cubicle/office worker people snuck into the break room to play with cat toys, and they got caught by their boss, and they were all just looking at each other, and the boss was like "back to work, goons," what if that happened?

here are some of my favorite things to feel:

-being kind of hot and drowsy with the sun beating down on your face, just sitting in the lawn or a park or waiting for someone in a car or something.

-the way time doesn't exist when you're waking up with someone you love, and you just roll around quietly in bed together and sometimes open your eyes. these are the longest moments of my life.

-taking an extremely hot shower and being warm all over.

-being awake in the middle of the night and knowing that life is still going on around you, but in a slightly different way.

-talking all night long.

-being alone, but not lonely.

-the way your body feels after swimming in the ocean. or swimming in general, i guess. how you're always kind of warmly exhausted.

-when i come home and pick up alvie and he smells like he's been sleeping in my bed all day.

-looking up at all the stars, when you can see so many.

-everything about wet grass in summer.

-the night before leaving for a trip on an airplane.

-any moment where i am conscious of having a "peak experience," where i have thoughts like, "i know i will fondly remember this later."

2008-12-31T19:05:00.002-05:00

2008-12-29T22:47:00.003-05:00

"do you want to try a bite of what i'm eating? it's very good."

"smell this! it smells good."

"want a chocolate?"

if i say these things to a female, she usually complies.

if i say these things to a male, he will usually refuse my offer.

sometimes i get undressed with the blinds open. not intentionally, i just kind of forget. i doubt anyone would recognize me on the street.

last night i was at home for fifteen minutes before going to mt. royal tavern to meet a coworker and some of her friends.

it was one of her friends' 21st birthday. that friend kept calling me pretty all night, and saying she wanted to talk to me because i was pretty. i wasn't sure if i was supposed to say "thank you!" or "not as pretty as you!" or "no i'm not" so i think i used each of those things as responses at different times.

my coworker and i were "talking buddies" for most of the night. i felt warm and satisfied feelings, and like i was "succeeding at being liked by strangers" and "making new friends and becoming better friends".

when the bar closed, they let us take our drinks with us. they bought six packs and gin at the bar. we walked back to the friend's house, the friend kept stumbling and falling down. there were seven of us. my zipper was broken.

the friend and her boyfriend live in a very large, beautiful rowhouse, and have a black kitten named batman. the friend was very drunk and we all took care of her, kind of. i remember being in her bed with my coworker and we were hugging or cuddling or something. from the way alcohol was slowing everything down, it felt like living in an extended posed picture moment.

my coworker and i tried to think of a handshake but we couldn't.

we all went downstairs and played ten fingers. i've never had buttsex or done acid. i forget what else everyone was saying. i think some of the people didn't want to play towards the end, but we were all enthusiastic about it at the beginning. there was an obese girl who reminded me of musical theater people.

the friend's boyfriend walked me to my car. there was someone sleeping in a recliner in a room lit by christmas lights. the living room or foyer i think.

daily food intake of roseanne arnold

2008-12-26T22:24:00.005-05:00

banana
1/2 slice cold papa john's cheese pizza
spinach artichoke chicken lean pocket
orange
handful caramel corn
two caramel chew candies
three fire roasted tomato triscuts with trader joe's garlic hummus
one small wafer cookie thing
one half pita with hummus
probably 7 fat free ruffles potato chips dipped in clam dip
a forkful of beef stroganoff
steamed baby spinach
1/8 of a mango
two triscuits thin crisps dipped in hummus
three small pickles
two spoonfuls of cranberry sauce
probably a tablespoon of cashews

coffee
water
tea

2008-12-18T22:25:00.004-05:00

here is what happened:

i went to the gym at 5 to meet with my personal trainer woman. she is 23, from north carolina, and we probably hung out with different crowds in high school.

i listened to joy division and baltimore club music, ran for 45 minutes, did ab stuff, went to a yoga class, drove home.

stood in front of my refrigerator for about four minutes before deciding on making spinach/mushroom risotto with shrimp and asparagus.

did that.

went out to get white wine.

got back and my fucking cat ate my asparagus

whatever

ate everything, watched "friends" on t.v., got a little tipsy.

decided to take out the trash, clean out the fridge, and sanitize my kitchen.

did that.

have been watching dumb and dumber on tbs, getting more drunker, petting my cats, and am about to finish two art projects.

it's okay.

being here is okay.

i feel almost not completely depressed anymore.

i feel medium depressed.

last night i did art, watched the darjeeling limited, got stoned, looked at the internet, masturbated, and fell asleep.

today i did nothing except for what i just described. most of today i was inside, sitting quietly.

this is my space in the world i guess. whatever whatever. whatever.

2008-12-15T16:39:00.001-05:00

i have a normal looking female body, i think. it used to be pretty skinny, like size four skinny, but now it's "normal", about size six or eight. i'm crazy.

it's a female body charlie kaufman or noah baumbach would want a character to have in one of their movies to look "authentic" or "real", to set them apart from big studio movies. that makes me feel good and kind of elitist. but it also makes me wonder about my attractiveness.

i don't like thinking these thoughts, but i haven't thought of thoughts to replace them yet, and i don't even really think it works that way.

i think these pants make me look like a seal. not in a fat way, in a dark blue and smooth way. i think if the word "seal" were a color it would be indigo. i'm crazy.

Frankenstein craigslist posting

2008-12-04T16:26:00.001-05:00

I would love to have an actual conversation with someone, anyone really. I am happily attached but there is only so much you can do with your man. I'm a good conversationalist and i Usually break into laughter at jokes. I AM A HUGE STEVE PERRY FAN HIS MUSIC HAS ALWAYS TOUCHED MY HEART. I would like to barter my mr. handyman skills for your cleaning skills. The ladies I know are great people but none can dance well. I like to talk about religion, spirituality, politics, cooking, camping, music, movies, etc. I need to make $600 if you have any job ideas that'll help me raise money let me know. I have mastered knowing what pukes up easier, and how to get hard to reach stuff out.

u gotta be sexy and in shape. You whisper "deeper" and "faster", but you're still asleep. I guess your dream involves tasting my hard cock right now. you should be comfortable in gay clubs, even sleeping in the same bed (of course without sex!!). No racial preferences. A group of 4 - 6 people will be great. if you are a good person then we should get along just find.

So, if you're a Dexter addict like me and would like to hang out and have a fun time, let's get together and watch Dexter together. If you are a gal who likes to actively sail and knows her jib from her jibe, her sheet from her halyard, write to me and let’s get to know a little about each other before Spring. Hit me up, and we'll "get blunted".

I have posted before and although I have received several responses, it never seems to go anywhere. Just a lot of emailing back and forth.

2008-12-04T12:45:00.004-05:00

I'm watching the Rachel Zoe show right now. I haven't watched reality t.v. for a long time. Reality t.v. takes itself so seriously. I think the words/phrases that are most frequent on reality t.v. are "just", "god", "I mean", "hard", "understand".

Imagining my life as a reality show is really funny to me.

There would be dramatic close-ups of me looking out the window and talking to myself, saying things like, "I just don't know." The sky would be grey. "I just don't want to go outside today."

My "confessional" moments where it's just me talking directly to the camera would be saying things like, "I couldn't decide if I wanted to have half of a cantaloupe or cereal or both. I spent over fifty seconds thinking about it. God. It's just so ----ing hard sometimes."

Then there would be a shot of me looking in the mirror. There would be a voiceover: "even though I have a lot of clothes, sometimes nothing feels right." Then I would take off all my clothes and lie down and there would be Gaussian blurs on my private parts.

There would be a shot of me lying on my couch and Alvie, my grey cat, curled up in my armpit. "He thinks I'm his mom."

I would lie down on my bed and hold my cell phone up to my ear and pretend I was talking to someone. I would say, "aslkasj askjdhkasjdhsakjhd murmrurmaurmmaruruar. barm. brarb. baaraebaem." but very dramatically.

I guess I lie down a lot.

2008-12-03T21:47:00.001-05:00

A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI A MILLI

...

2008-12-01T22:38:00.004-05:00

2008-11-30T22:23:00.003-05:00

Tonight in the parking lot as I was walking out to my car, I was smelling that distinct "city food smell" and feeling nostalgic for a dream. I was positive I had experienced this before in a dream. I thought, "I HAVE HAD SO MANY EXPERIENCES IN MY LIFE, HOW DO I STORE THESE BILLION EXPERIENCES, HOW DO I NOT FORGET EVERYTHING, REMEMBERING MEANS I HAVE EXISTED IN THE PAST AND WHAT IF I FORGET THINGS, DOES THAT MEAN THIS IS ALL FOR NOTHING?!" in all caps in my head.

2008-11-26T09:01:00.005-05:00

I think the morning is my favorite time of day.

Yesterday I talked with the guy installing Comcast. He said he was going to be a guest on Judge Joe Mathis because he was driving drunk on Father's Day and crashed into this guy's truck. I told him he should've gone on Judge Joe Mathis. He said he didn't want to because he took the issue seriously, and being on Judge Joe Mathis would make it into a joke. I said that might be okay.

We both love cats but are allergic. He looked like Lil Wayne, but attractive. He liked my pictures of Handimals.

I asked him who his craziest customer was. He said a lot of people come to the door naked. I thought about my friend Kelly, in high school, who went to the door naked when Jehovah's Witnesses were outside, but I didn't tell him about it in case he was a Jehovah's Witness.

He also said a couple almost got into a physical fight while he was installing cable, and he felt very uncomfortable and said something about calling the cops to them.

Then Shrek 3 came on t.v. and we both watched it for awhile and were quiet. A CGI character spit into a mug and he said, "ew, gross." I said, "I only saw the first Shrek." He said, "I saw the second one too. They have like four or five I think. I love Shrek."

I pictured us becoming really unlikely friends, and he wears his Comcast uniform all the time even when we go out to a bar or dinner or something. I don't know his name, but it is probably Tyrone.

2008-11-02T22:56:00.002-05:00

Searched for hermit crab mating
10:50pm

Searched for date ideas for hermit crabs
10:50pm

Searched for do hermit crabs respond positively to candlelight and merlot?
10:50pm

Searched for do hermit crabs respond positively to barry white slow jams?
10:51pm

Searched for how do i get my hermit crabs to fall in love with each other?
10:51pm

Searched for how do i get my hermit crabs to fall in love with me?
10:51pm

Searched for hermit crab voting laws maryland
10:51pm

Searched for polling hours for hermit crabs md
10:52pm

Searched for hermit crab lovemaking positions
10:52pm

Searched for hermit crab love making positions
10:53pm

Searched for how tiny are hermit crab babies?
10:53pm

Searched for hermit crab sex tape
10:53pm

Searched for paris hilton hermit crab xxx
10:53pm

Searched for how do hermit crabs kiss each other?
10:53pm

Searched for hermit crab foreplay
10:54pm

Searched for is shia laboef dating a hermit crab?
10:54pm

Searched for is shia laboeuf dating a hermit crab?
10:55pm

2008-11-01T21:12:00.002-04:00

9:08pm Searched for owning pigeons

9:08pm Searched for do pigeons have teeth?

9:08pm Searched for dental hygiene for pigeons

9:09pm Searched for should i get braces for my pigeons?

9:09pm Searched for pigeon orthodontist baltimore md

9:09pm Searched for what sedatives should i give my pigeon before taking it to the orthodontist?

9:09pm Searched for pigeon sedatives

9:09pm Searched for famous pigeon drug overdose deaths

9:10pm Searched for "jimmy hendrix" the pigeon

9:10pm Searched for how to roast pet pigeons

9:10pm Searched for pigeon roasting tips

9:11pm Searched for before i roast my pigeon, should i make sure it has straight healthy teeth?

9:11pm Searched for pigeon teeth interfering with roast time

9:12pm Searched for pigeon's reaction to 9/11

how to be alone

2008-10-28T01:21:00.002-04:00

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.

2008-10-22T09:25:00.000-04:00

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.

2008-10-19T23:20:00.000-04:00

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?

what cleaning out your childhood house feels like

2008-10-17T20:55:00.000-04:00

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

2008-10-12T00:42:00.001-04:00

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.

2008-10-10T23:44:00.000-04:00

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.