6:51am: ate another 50mg vyvannse when I arrived at Dad’s. Unpacked and hung ‘temporary clothes for the few weeks I’ll be here.’ Responded late to an email from Jordan. Have been sitting at kitchen table, reformatting liveblog, pressing ‘enter’ key and dreading seeing spinning rainbow circle since maybe a little after 4am. Now sitting in car for a cigarette break. Thought, in a combination of David Bowie and Donovan’s voice, like, this was sung jauntily: ‘when mailman calls then the mail is due for the muppet boys at the muppet zoo.’ Chewed 15mg adderall with front teeth.

7:01am: car is getting warmer. Lighting second cigarette. Keep mentally replaying mailman David Bowie song thing. Alvie has been loudly running around and meowing at a rate probably five meows every two minutes. Insatiable. The Insatiable Alvie and his traveling shitshow of terrible fiendish delights. Worried dad is going to wake and use his computer and see liveblog. An older Asian woman in shiny matching hot pink pants and jacket seems to be dragging two almost identical small dogs into dad’s building.

Things to do today:

•  drop off computer at macmedics

•  write and mail gyno letter

•  emails, as many as you can

7:25am: Alvie howling. Pet him on kitchen floor then Shirley came over and I picked them up at the same time. Shirley is drinking water out of my glass and now Alvie has joined her. No, he gave up. Alvie has given up on the water glass. Did he give up? Yes, he has officially jumped to the floor, hit the floor with a loud thump, but he is unscathed, perhaps even happy about the thumping—yes, he seems to be thumping deliberately, furthering his kitchen shitshow of tragic sounds. Trying to get more bass for the shitshow. He needs more bass, that’s all it is. Once he has the bass he’ll be happy. Alvie and the thump squad (a.k.a. his feet) hot on the trail for more bass. Got a craigslist tip about the sickest subwoofer, it’s on top of the fridge. You don’t even have to install it anywhere, it’s included. All you need to do is climb to the top of the fridge and jump off. That’s it. All the bass in the world. The sickest bass. Any hour, any time, really any time, all yours: just climb to the top of the fridge and jump. It’s about how you hit the floor. BOOM. Thumpmaster Alvie and the thump squad will not settle for anything less than the highest gravity fridge-top bass. What I’m saying is he seems to be jumping off the fridge a lot.

7:31am: Shirley walked backwards to sit on a folder, is now staring at a lamp, bumping nose on lid of dad’s computer. She has been fiending for the space between my arms and the keyboard all night. Offered water glass to Alvie, which he smelled, looked concerned at, and walked away. Oh my god. Way more meows than five every two minutes. Over ten times a minute.