Room

Is this it is this all there is is this the end or is this the end of the slow ride the slow ride to the top to the top of the rollercoaster rails just before just before the drop the drop drop

March

Things have been violent. Driving makes me feel sane because it's the only time I know what I'm doing. Having something to focus on in the moment is the best distraction there can be. I like things to change and now they have, but the feeling of inertia doesn't go away. Everything feels like going backwards. 

Long Beach

Time passes and without realizing it there were some moments in there that you will think about over and over again. You'll talk about it years later so that somebody can better understand what your life has been like, what the story is all about. Most of it is really unconscious, you just talk about what's on your mind wherever the conversation goes. You're making the conversation as much as it's making you. It exists as much as you do. Or rather you only exist as much as these things do.

Spent a lot of time with Mummy this week / weekend and it was really nice. Also spent a lot of time with JY and H too. I don't really know what my life is about these days but I've been pretty entertained.

Sleeplessness

Something is happening. It's hard to get to sleep these days. Going to work because that's the only time I'm not thinking about the thing I'm trying not to think about. To a limited extent of course. You know me, I run on obsession and or habit. 

I spent a lot of time with the H brothers this week and I am really so grateful that there are these people in my life I can be total shit around. Right now everything is in shambles. Tomorrow I will make a list of all the things I need to do to un fuck my life. It'll get better. It can't really get any worse. 

In the mood

Post valentines

A bit longer and you start to think that you've never been in love before. That it was always about the concept rather than the person. That's not how it should have been. Making boys into superhero characters in your head and in your long handwritten letters. Breaking them down and making them weep for themselves, having to live in this box of your expectations. Even the ones who truly tried had to extricate themselves at some point. And you didn't consider any of this, all you could do was to cry on the phone. The notion of love in your mind was informed by old Disney cartoons and Hollywood movies. Prince Charming kisses Snow White. All she did was lie there. Happily ever afters. Why does real life have to be so imperfect and difficult? Why am I so imperfect and difficult? 

This treatment is not very interesting to anybody but thankfully you've found ways to talk these catastrophic failures into funny little anecdotes to share at the dinner table. There's no point taking yourself so seriously. 

Hands

You might have thought about it once or twice in your life, just barely. Somebody mentions it in a throwaway comment and then you can't stop thinking about it for the next three days. 

The older I get. The harder it is to distinguish between what I remember and what I imagine. The feelings are about the same. 

Supposedly moving out this week

Books can be such treacherous things they trap you and pull you away from reality. When it's over you're left hungry and alone in an unmade bed, too lazy to get up to open the windows, blearily shoving away the food wrappers and cigarette ash to the side away before you finally close your eyes to rest.

I might as well have a drug problem for all these fantasy land kind of thoughts and my deep incompetence at managing practical affairs. 

Anyway I'm just exaggerating. I read too quickly to really develop severe problems from the habit. 

Golden

2016