M[(1)even thou]

 Where do we begin?  Fascination with…walking back and forth.  Dingy, dive.  Walking back and forth.  Sacred, lovely.  Adoration.  Friday with so many emotional problems.  Shaking man.  When comes.  Drowning in alcohol.  And turning the pages.  Always hopeful upon entry.  Most recent, the desire to be utterly obliterated.  Now I’m a functioning member of s….   so sleepy now.  Gut on fire in the early morn, potent mix of booze and sleeping agent.  Needed utter obliteration last night.  Tears.  Need to read more of those slim volumes.  Can’t do it.  No, got to remember the good.  Moments of delicious yearning.  Need the yearning.  Looking down to the ground.  Desire to commit to adoration.  Somewhere in a dream you were assistant to a foreign princess.  Legal team.  Tasked with procuring lunch.  Tasked with procuring three items, one of them teasingly unforgettable.  Communication by phone.  This was the only time I was ever happy.  Then drunk on the other side, too light and first and then someone blissfully turned the lights.  I showed up too early.  Pacing in.  the old western style doors.  Hall pass. Asking for a hall pass.  Haven’t thought about hall passes in ages.  Needed to look up ,not sure if definition is correct.  Asking about hall pass.  I’m probably full of shit.  With their tanks.  Bathtub.  Ending, everything ending cause nothing really matters.  Repeating the refrain, so funny, love it, you should let me serenade you sometime (I never said this). Register in between.  Prudence in the morning. So are you, apropos.  Schizophrenic.  Hard life.  Posts provide ample warnings.  Went on vacation.  Alaska.  Those two things not directly related.  But kind of.  And then joining right next to.  Multiple times.  Better than anything.  The mockery.  Watching the clock.  Almost my bed time.  Hall pass.  Nothing really matters.  Back to glorious old habits.  Recent day, started crying uncontrollably.  What’s going on?  Hard life.  Not me.  Alarms.  Red alarms.  Depression?  The clocks again.  Not a coors light fan.  Savage take down.  Between light beer and clocks was a savage take down.  “To see you.”  At some point I drank way too much.  Was all this recent?  Started talking a fool.  I’m always a fool.  I’m a dopey clown.  Jester at heart.  Don’t go for the baroque shit.  Show something real.  Unless it’s the beauty of….   To die in sweetest sin.  Need to just ride this one out.  Let it run it’s course.  I’m an adult, I can do what I want.  What did that mean exactly?  Drinking less probably wouldn’t hurt either.  If only I could snuff it all out, starting with myself.  Sat next to, don’t be so damned obvious you creep.  I’m a fucking creep.  Then interruptions.  No one likes me.  Perfectly understandable.  Mockery of the clocks on multiple occasions.  Automobiles have me.  Of course, I think as my head goes light, how utterly proper.  That is the only explanation that makes sense.  Trying to recapture something utterly useless.  These easy bubblegum infused sentiments.  This was never your life.  It never could be your life.  Imagine going to the fair.  Imagine not being a failure.  (the county fair is a pretty fair fair).  Vehicles again.  Feeling low.  Washed and dried.  Celebrating the occasion with nothing.  Back in the day.  I’m such a fool but there is nothing great about it.  Only awful.  Need to wash and dry again.  Wasn’t that at the same time as a couple others?  Maybe not aged as highly.  And now triangles.  No, last night.  So lovely.  Seasonal depression.  Desire for adoration.  Loving submission.  Master.  Pastels. Pink and grey.  What the fuck is going on?  Way too much.  I asked a stupid question about a sandwich.  Passing out.  Knocking out.  Don’t understand what desire is anymore.  Way too much last night.  Peppers.  Stupid man.  Stupid man.  Water.  Need water.  Been taking on too much.  Seasonal.  Two before.  Then one during.  So delightful.  So wonderful.  Felt better, feel better when everything dies down.  Don’t really care about myself.  Too much failure.  Electric blue.  What did you take?  Pastry.  Cake.  Like that word.  Out there. Out there?  Incredulous.  Saying goodbye but I’m not going anywhere.  Out there?  Out there.  Laughing.  What the fuck is going on?  Drooling . what a fuckup.  Hate myself . laughing again. Can’t be all bad.  Like it?  What’s happening?  Lonely crowd.  I’m rude.  Like it. Gone.  Don’t understand anything.  Thinking about….  Came home.  Everything is on fire.  Wish I could identify that bouquet.  I wish I had a future.  Anywhere.  In these right angle rooms now.  Oh so lovely.  Meet at the dance.  Broken, useless.  Collapsing.  I am not good for anyone and never have been.  All a jumble now.  Hazy because of toxic.  Twenty dollar bill, twenty one dollar bill.  Thank you, sorry.  Lovely sharing.  Hall pass.  Feeling dizzy now.  Love feeling dizzy.  Love not feeling anything.  all happened so suddenly.  Happy to see when walking through the door.  I love this place because it is a fake place.  Everything is so fake.  But I love it because of that.  Vampires in the morning.  Only solace in the morning from the vampires.  New now.  Air sounds.  It’s okay.  You’re okay.  I’m right here.  Opening up, yes, started with trying once more.  No use trying anymore.  So quick to ruin.  Exhibitionism.  Nothing ever works out.  Still feel dizzy.  Ruin.  Maybe time to throw in the towel.  Still prefer to travel the places where you traveled.  It’s all an illusion.  Always exists the possibility.  Office last night and office this morning.  So different.  All I can do.  Last month I’m realizing the greatness of having new values and concluding that I must have had a stick up my ass.  A stick is your friend.  Last month of last year of course.  Orange wax.  I’m the chairman of the bored.  Good to rid the little star of yourself.  Your self.  You’re awful.  Awful.  Slaughtered.  Always love seeing the thumbsup.  Must return to the place that isn’t real because the fake and numb things are the

prelude to an uh closer to O but so so so far from O

 

Icons are necessary now. Icons have me.  waiting on my drink to be refilled.  No, not accurate, because I don’t want the same thing.  Need more orange juice.  Easy enough.  Persona non grata. That is me.  don’t know how.  What have I ever done.  I’m harmless.  Just sitting here reading about a killer whale.  Envy.  Whale envy.  Later on listening about killing strangers.  No, not later, right now.  In the morning maybe brian eno or danny elfman or nancy Sinatra.  Want to watch a crocodile movie soon.  Groin aching.  No, not quite aching.  Feels anxious for some reason.  Motherfucker just has it’s own mind.  Afterward, brief feeling of euphoria followed by so much self loathing, resentment, disgust.  Automobiles have me and I’m not even a car fan.  I told her about the automobile fascination.  Food this time. chocolate donuts.  Something like that.  Chocolate fucking donuts.  Anticipating this.  Checking in a thousand times a day. 

Who is in this world of icons?  Need to fill up the red notebook.  Too much coffee.  Jeans shorts,  tan skin.  I am so engrossed in sin.  I have to create this little world just to store it all.  Crush crush cruch that’s what I was looking forward to.  No time for any science (don’t think I’ll get this later on) because I’m so controlled by something evil.  There in the store tempted by all the lovely boxes.  Resist resist resist.  Nothing really matters.  I’m not built of love.  I’m not built for anything good.  Don’t really have the guts to take the necessary plunge.

No, don’t dilute.  The icons.  Who are they?  Plant based.  Every morning is plant based.  You need the jackal who is not the jackal.  You need the rhapsody in blue.  The rhapsody in blue is everything.  The one of so many languages.  Bizarre symbols hastily scrawled on the scraps of paper.  Can’t make heads or tails of anything.  Right now, irrelevant, but taking me back. Fingertips together, rushed apology, fingertips together against the cold glass, I’m sorry. 

Is lars Anderson and the enigmatic domino lady the proper entryway to this uh?  There was mysticism at the dawn.  Of course this means I must pull down that old tome Morning of the Magicians again.  Answers can be found in old books.  Watched The Phantom the other day.  I don’t like pulp in my orange juice but there is always a proper context for damn near everything.  I am beginning to understand why that early  morning hour reoccurs.  Formations here.  This is the prelude with that front image I shall always remember.  Going where he has never gone before: away.

Who are the features.  Certainly, the Rhapsody in Blue. Perhaps Jackal who is not the Jackal.  Little Star.  Of course, in the background; the madness, the master of so many languages.  Replacement.  How does all this relate to the O writings?  It’s all linked up of course.  The terrors in the middle of the night.  He cries out for comfort. 

A golden age.  Is there a place for a golden age anywhere here?  The city of Recife.  The city of Recife must figure into things.  How much natural geography needs to be present.  There is Recife.  Likely somewhere in Mexico, somewhere in Spain.  Somewhere in Italy.  I may need a beach somewhere, island at night.  I need a city at night, roadways. 

I think somewhere there will be a sign which reads: Yamila, I swear. 

Need to read more of Bark’s Duck books. 

Ah, did you see that?  The bit of time travel which just took place.  Time travel that showed an utter loss of time, an utter waste of life.  How neat!  All the same shit though.  I’m sure I’m forgetting something.  Need to break out that old book.  have a place in the lake.  Zombie auditory.  Looking through the glass.  Fire and brimstone as a tear runs down my cheek.  Sunday night feels like Saturday night.  How did I enter into this world of sin?  To die in sweetest sin.  Such bullshit when I think about temptation.  It’s all inside of me.  everything reduced to the bare essentials for the needs to be met.  Not sure what I can grow with this.  What new icons need to be discovered.  Why am I thinking of the bloodshed and then I look up and suddenly in front of me is a brilliant skyscraper.  I’m only using, I’m only using.  That one track is extra special because it features the iguana.  Listening to motorhead recently.  Can’t see worth a damn now.  Everything is blue.  I think I’ve already talked about crocodiles.  Why am I finding words so hard to come by?  Neil with the pink cover. 

I can’t even think of anyone anymore because it is far past that.  There is no more, all invented, just awful scattered thoughts, got to fulfill a need, only me, only me, only me and oh fuck now repeating that awful thing from a few years piece of shit script piece of shit henry miller wannabe shit think maybe there might have been sprinkles on the cover and on the opposite end of the spectrum I need to reread glamorama. Or do I ?  the more I learn the less I want to know.  Yes, I do. 

It’s everywhere, all at once but I can’t think of anyone because it is not a person.  I am a very low individual.  Dirt.  Dirt on me.  dirt everywhere.  Need to get dirt in my ears.  I see what it means now.  Self chosen.  Substances have never been the issue .  rain.  Is there a kind icon anywhere.  I don’t know that kindness exists in my little circle because everything in my little circle only comes from me and since I’m shit it stands to reason that everything that comes from me is shit there is only shit around me and I do not deserve anything more than that.

But I must create this new dimension, dream the unthinkable

Bright red lipstick and then black and tan

a pretty (that was ref to last time but now orange is far more appropriate and please just le

 

DONE

I’m no Johnny-come-lately.  I know all about the Kelly Cahill case.  I know about a lot of crap I really shouldn’t.  I really shouldn’t eat all the ice cream.  I really shouldn’t.  my life is disposable crap.  I just said that out loud.  Anything bad in it is my fault though.  I’m shit so everything that comes from me is shit.  The drawings associated with that case as ever scare me.  Red eyes.  That’s interesting.  I can’t recall too many accounts with red eyes. 

I read a slim gory western in a day the other day and it was quite good and I quite enjoyed the experience.  I think very soon I will read another

BRUTAL FUCKING MURDER, I cried out with a Polish accent. 

Amarillo.  My God, I’d forgotten.  Please, let me one day make that right.  When I remembered that I’d forgotten I was looking out the window of a plane and starting down at an island near the west coast of costa rica.  Oh how I cried and threw fits back in the day.  That was the awful summer afterward, wasn’t it.  I hate you so much.  Well, it seems you’ve learned how to sign my name.  Gus Pike! Be careful of Gus Pike! Why am I the only one who’s happy? 

Sara again.  The temptress.  The seductress.  In my dreams the executrix.  Oh sweet denier.  Research. 

Along with this a new Ana Barbara video.  This makes me.  Oh God, everything.  Rituals have me.  And then realizing the other Barbara is from beyond.  Of course, I think as my head goes light, how utterly proper.  Being me is such an awful thing.  I so often don’t want to be me.  But I realize it is entirely my fault.  All these bad things are my fault.  Exquisite emptiness inside of me.  Vampiric in the future. 

You know what I’ve really been enjoying?  The Dirty Harry films! I have 1 left to watch but I find it to be a great and fascinating series.  Or do i?  the more I learn the less I want to know.  Might be fun to buy some wax today.  Might be fun to buy some coffee.  Giantess videos have me.  Vore has me.  No satisfaction from anything at this point.  Because I am empty inside.  Grey in my head now.  Yellow papers.  I’ve enjoyed some western books I’ve read recently.  Need to read more westerns.  Read a gory one the other week, complimented the author.  Head feels so bad.  Broken while on the way.  Big fucking broken machine.  Machinery has me.  Metal sculpture.  Rivers of molten metal.  Blood later on. 

Now so empty.  All my fault.  I am very very empty.  Gonna watch a vampire movie soon.  I was sitting inside but wishing I was outside.  I think.  Mysticism.  I scheduled something so unbelievably piss poorly today.  What a horse’s ass I am.  Yet still going through the pages was good.  Maybe wouldn’t have had chance for pages without piss poor planning.  Then I ate fish.  Raised the light.  Then I remembered from beyond.  How could I not realize from beyond.  I like that kind of thing although I can’t say for sure cause I really have no idea.  Disgraced now but I liked the one iteration with the deformed fruit and recurrent pink and magenta hues (asylym referencing).  Gonna hang out later but with little desire. 

Oh God it’s all so meaningless.  Nickel plated! Nickel plated!  I’m crying, no I was crying multiple times.  Just last night.  Yesterday afternoon to early evening.  It was all so tender.  So lovely and tender.  And now, knowing the truth I can see everything from a different light.  There’s still time, it’s not too late for me.  Looking right at me when those words appeared.  Floating in the water.  Tears always threatening to spill out.  Changes.  There’s still time.  So lovely and tender.  I am so incredibly sad.  I feel bad all the time.  My only source of comfort comes from imagining that I am dead.  I ate spaghetti last night. 

On the way was the second of the large collection. I felt emancipated.  Yes, it was so many years ago during the formative years with the Italian who was not an Italian.  That this purchase was made.  I still have it.  Broken off.  Always was.  Always loved.  Forgotten how much I love the second.  Lush. That is the description I would give.  Lush.  Maybe get wax at some point.  Overlooked?  Underrated?  Hard to say.  But some of that stuff is top top shelf.  Made me feel good for just a moment. 

And living water too of course.  Need to strip everything away except for the living water.  There’s still time ,it’s not too late form.  So lovely and tender.  But there are connections.  Need to rid myself of.  Too bad I can’t rid myself of myself.  If I could just rub it all out, starting with myself.   Borrowed jacket. Too much professionalism.  How could he ever have valued this?  Always confusing what is important.  And what’s inside the glass slows it all down.  Summer soon.  Need latin.  I feel so very sad.  Doesn’t really matter though.  Need to throw on my owl costume and say that nothing matters.  Because I have nothing to say.  That’s the most brutal realization.  Known it for a while though.  Put me in that old folks home and let me absolve others of their sins. 

Cran.  I like the color turquoise I think.  La la la la la la, la, la la la, la la la.  And then under that is the groove.  What would you do for a second chance with…. He wishes he could just start over.  But no fugue for me.  Isn’t that awful?  No matter how hard I could pretend I would still be me.  It would never work because I would still be me. 

I’m going to eat a soft baked breakfast bar.  I didn’t go to the grocery store yesterday.  It hurts to talk to people.  It hurts to see them.  I just feel so bad all the time.  I like to drink and go to sleep.  I wish I wasn’t so worthless.  Haha, isn’t that funny?  I laugh at my insipid melodrama.  I’m such a putrid person  I really fucking hate my pathetic worthless self.  I don’t have many good childhood memories.  But that doesn’t mitigate what a useless adult I am.  Or does it?  The more I learn the less I want to know.  No, it definitely doesn’t.  need to stop little star but can’t yet cause I am weak.  I don’t have the chops.  I can’t cut the mustard. 

The illusory construct.  Eva.  No, the illusory construct of Itsaso.  Is it all the same thing?  It must be for me.  She can comfort me.  She can see me and cry with me.  Hahaha, I’m such a loser.  I don’t actually deserve any of that.  But please, just leave me with those fleeting thoughts. 

the dying over there

 

Saw mickey mouse with his face melted off.  Mickey mouse skull.  Day before easter saw a woman wearing blue lace bra and panties with bunny ears and a little tail.  That was sexy.  It didn’t mean anything though.  It registered but didn’t mean anything.  It’s all just information.  Need to watch flashdance again.  Need to read more often.  Vivian’s tears.  It was far too long.  I wish I was an opium addict.  I need to sit my stupid ugly ass down in the corner somewhere and think about triangles for a damn long time.  I still think the end of The Blair Witch Project is very damn scary. 

I wish that I and everyone had appreciated Elizbeth more when there was time.  Lone Star is everything. 

The drama of Raising the Bar stems from the inherent disfunction within our legal system.  The reminds me of the time my blowtorch accidentally went off in a crowded room.  This was around the time I first learned what love truly was. 

I need tropical hot dog night.  That always makes me feel better.  Is there a second act or is this it? 

Of course I loved everything related to the hollow.  It felt delightful. More of that and less of the pretty faces though in many other circumstances the pretty faces are very alley!  It made me remember how much I long to once again see the 90’s Land of the Lost series.  I would do anything for that series.  I hate myself.  I hate my childhood and I hate the childhood me.  But I also hate the adult me.  I hate the adult me more.  Both the child and the adult me are worthless and stupid but the child one at least has an excuse cause kids are naturally dumb. 

Were to start living off the land I would change my name to dimensional gates.  Do we all remember when porn star Hot Gates began to utilize fourth world iconography.  I think it was right at the end there.  The comedy to the tragedy.  Real vibrant color.  Pen and an imac.  That’s all it really takes in the final analysis. 

I’m evil I’m evil I’m evil!  All I want to know is what the geniuses at Lucky Charms have up their collective sleeve this time?  God, I need a drink.  After work I’m gonna get real fucked up on cheap whiskey and think about Lucky Charms.  Then I’m going to say in my thick Irish brogue “nobody will get their hands on me unlucky worms!”

Blue hammer, I think I had a blue hammer once.  Red screwdriver, green wrench and orange pliers maybe.  They were all in a small plastic bag.  ASMR had him.  Someone body slammed the door saying there was a deadly creature but then there was nothing. 

Heartache in the night again, oh well it doesn’t really matter.  All the things I cause don’t matter.  Polish night music helped me immensely the other day.  And a crocodile too.  My eyes are burning right now.  Industrial culture.  The daughter of Vulcan.  Molten metal.  Everything liquid metal.  Glorious rivers of liquid metal.  Everyone always fucks things up in the end.  The human body is disgusting.  Disgust is something I commonly feel.  I love to be alone.  Miriam had me the other day.  Sweetest sin.  Descending again.  Always.  I need to drink some coffee now.  Middle of the night discovery again down that familiar road.  Secret school haunting. 

I read something about plants the other and then I made spaghetti but I called it macaroni.  Tangerine this morning (thief).  Some days I feel.  I’m the gentleman who fell.  I don’t know how.  Which connection I should cut. Is this a moment of clarity.  Can I get rid of that one thing?  Once I clear up the accruals. 

I watched that thing with the ballet over the weekend.  Adoration. Always on my mind.  No, ballet isn’t correct.   I’m such a fucking idiot.  Modern.  It’s modern in a period setting.  Berlin of course.  I think.  I don’t know anything.  I like all the iggy references in the other thing I’m not currently discussing.  I am she.

Theatre and masquerade always break my heart.  All artifice.  All glorious and beautiful artifice.  Apropos of nothing, I’m waiting at the bottom of the stairs.  I need to know if I’m wasting my time.  If so, nickel plated needs to be accelerated.  But it’s not time yet.  True attempts must be made.  Sontag’s words valuable.

Need to consider when the passing out occurs.  Everything ongoing.  Tears halting for the moment.  Realization.  All of use in our beautiful artifice.  I hate myself so much.  I’m at my happiest when I’m asleep.  The sad thing is even in those moments – even in dreams – I can’t escape being me.  Hahaha that’s so pathetically melodramatic.  I’m such a piece of shit.  I’m fat and ugly too.  I really hate my dumb fucking ugly ass self. 

The quarantine has been very kind to Miriam.  She destroyed me.  No macaroni and cheese this time though. 

Have I overrated the dark knight all these years?  Possible.  More though required.  Need to watch flashdance again.  I ate corned beef hash the other day.  It was a satisfying meal.  Listened to a charly Garcia album while driving around.  Going nowhere.  That’s me.  Going nowhere.  Reminds me of a valentine’s day from so long ago.  Cruise me.  Maybe I just to engage in a more meta take, meta analysis.  Something like that.  Can’t think right now but I know I’m full of crap.  I can’t depend on anyone and it’s a glorious feeling.  I’m busy.  I like the. 

I’ve really been enjoying the series I’m working through and can how it influences what came later.  3 out of 5 currently.  I might eat pickles today.  The rhapsody in blue is all gone from me.  Everything is illusory.  The muses are illusory.  Little star falling.  I love to be used because I deserve it.  There is really no one left.  Except.  She liked vampire novels.  It’s the only way I can know her mind.  New year, new life.  White on valentines.  Are you okay?    

It’s my fault.  You get the relationships you deserve in life. 

design ofdidn't liek mec (avoid Siberian Q)

 Big bucks.  Of course I’m think of wearing a white suit and walking with a limp.  A wrinkled suit preferably.  Check out this chicken outfit.  What?  Chicken outfit!  Brief and brief.  Inventing the language.  Red tint in the bar.  I feel so depressed right now.  Grey clouds inside my head.  They are unusually heavy. Someone blathering on in my ear.  Everyone tells me about their lives and I don’t care.  I wish just about everyone would never talk to me. Nickel plated.  That is the one which is catching my buyer’s eye.  But I don’t dare do it.  Because one night I’d just decide to cash in my chips and then BLAM! my worthless brains stain the dry wall.  In another time I was listening to a couple women discuss a bullfrog and dry humping the drywall.  That spun out of a deep sense of disappointment.  Over and over again.  Anyone could have written those particular songs.  Been listening to that collection of Nancy Sinatra songs called Start Walkin’ recently.  Or have i?  the more I learn the less I want to know.  And some other stuff.  The Sontag book is comforting so far.  I don’t really like it when people comfort me because it feels fake and icky.  I really like Iggy Pop.  I’ve been reading Garth Ennis’s Punisher comics and I’m liking what I’m reading so far.  I feel so tired.  Ayelet is so beautiful.   I’m halfway through that miniseries of her’s and she is so lovely and SEXY.  I know what I’m craving.  Something about little cafés and bars.  To be away from everything and be able to be inside a little café in the afternoon and a little dive bar at night.  The only discussion I want is about the only things that matter which is almost nothing.  And it hit that the joel photos and the cipher and the millennium antics and what’s happening outside and industrialization are all connected and all part of the same coin but the phrase the same coin doesn’t make any sense at all here.   I might watch a horror movie later on.  It’s all my fault.  I’m such a worthless person.  Macaroni and cheese the other day.  So cheesy.  It was at the so cheesy part that I utterly lost it.  Stains for days.  Why is all meaning disappearing.  Freddy vs Jason is my favorite vs movie.  Peter hook is such an inspiration.  I forgot to bring my copy of opium confessions today.  I need to carry it with me at all times.  It’s fun to remove bad things from your life but for me to be fully successful I would have to remove myself.  Back to nickel plated again.  Maybe pearl but I think I prefer wood.  I’ve always been a wood man. I remember now the way you said the word torture.  It was so cute.  I remember a nice purple shirt.  I remember fish and chips (TEN DOLLARS FOR FISH AND CHIPS WHAT THE FUCK?!) and how they had precise geometrical shapes and I remember strange dogs and overcooked red meat and odd pasta and newspaper articles and discussions about the depiction of the native American Indian in pop culture and the Italian who wasn’t Italian and so much bullshit because I was so full of shit but this yes this is what he wanted and wants probably maybe though in reality everything will always be ruined because it always comes back to and down to him and him is me and I am a total piece of shit and all these moments are on constant playback and they flash before me over and over again and so I am constantly reminded of what a useless failure I am and only one way to annihilate these worthless thoughts and memories (worthless because everything coming from me is worthless) and we’re back to nickel plated again (pearl or wood?).  things  I like: kate bush’s music and gloria estefan’s music and thalia’s music.  And that last bat for lashes album had some things I could wrap around me.  I like Iggy’s avenue b album a lot and Danielle de niese.  And bebel’s albums have felt really good recently.  I often don’t feel as bad when I drink alcohol.  I drink a lot.  I suspect that I drink more than I should.  Rubber ass.  Diana vs.  can’t even fill this up.  Can’t even make this quota.  Cause there’s nothing to me.  I need to read Ada’s instructions, maybe that will help.  I’m a sinking ship.  My brain is a sinking ship.  Would like to learn kiss me on the bass.  Looks well within my sucky ass capabilities.  My stomach hurts right now.  Lots of times it feels like I’m experiencing everything through a pane of glass.  My stomach does hurt.  Esoteric beliefs.  Feels like no one’s really done an in depth analysis of the communion stuff.  I ate oreos the other day.  Where is all the true beauty anymore.  I don’t understand anyone.  I love being by myself.  I don’t like looking at people and I don’t like listening to this them.  Haris’s music has made me feel calm sometimes.  There is something illusory in my brain that at times approaches beautiful but again, it is illusory.  Fantasy.  That chunk of time came and went with no appreciable difference made.  Par for the course.  I can’t find any meaning anymore. True?  Just got to get it out of the system.  My eyes look tired.  There is no spark of anything left in them.  Maybe if I started playing Pengo at all hours of the day my life would make sense.  Maybe then I could be someone.  I liked that Gore movie I watched the other day.  Liked it a lot actually.  Blue.  I’ll have to show it someone and then not talk about it.  I prefer not talking these days.  I prefer nothing.  I’m going to eat a rotten apple.  I didn’t sleep well last night.  Too much haunting imagery.