1:24am: here are my jeopardy categories:

Where is Megan Boyle driving

Food amounts not ‘mg’

Days it could be

People you have disappointed

Tree homophones

Famous 18th century adult children

The daily double would be its own category which is ‘do you feel shittier now than ever.’ I’d write like, ‘[crossed out] no.’ Alex would say ‘no, ‘trout’ is the answer we were looking for. Trout: that’s the fish.’

There really was a ‘tree homophones’ category the other night.

1:50am: keep reaching for things in my jacket, thinking it’s another jacket, forgetting what I was reaching for.

1:54am: pictured Joaquin Phoenix/Yoni Wolf hybrid in 19th century oil tycoon suit preaching in a sparsely furnished brown room where I’m the only other person, kneeling in the center, thinking ‘will this end in sex…I hope this ends in sex…’

1:57am: button fell off my shirt. All my major jackets have lost at least one button at some point. Buttons got the right idea: stay away from me.

2:04am: what kind of food could I possibly buy and eat now. Want a Wawa BLT. Headache Jesus oof. Uff. The Rick Ross watermelon went ‘uff,’ remember?

2:06am: going to do words I think of as I think of them thing again: suburban banshee, banya, baobab tree, homophones, Bose, licking a grilled cheese, January, hair pattern bald spilling looseage, three ring binder, zooming canopy monkey, tres little blind mice, condominium, mortgage, a fleece seat, debbiderra, Derrida, debbie Harry, three blind mice again, horticulture, speed lasso, Tasmanian devil, bronco sleeves, a tourist attraction, blind mice (not three), twelve step dildo introduction, big ship mathematics, snorlax, bison, person saying ‘it smells like…a bra’ after smelling my bra, I’ll never forget that I don’t think, it was the person whose pictures I’m not as attracted to anymore but wish I we were in his basement sniffing my bra right now, just like in the olden days

2:14am: I want to get rammed really hard. Sexually rammed, not dodge rammed. That would help somehow. I am a self-diagnosed borderline personality disorder person. The only nice thing I have touched in days is this hot pink rubber thing on the back of my phone. It is supposed to help the phone not break. Or something. Help me help myself not break my phone when I drop it. And you better believe I will drop it.

2:20am: I shouldn’t tell dad his pot stinks.

2:23am: an ambulance is behind me with its lights going and no sirens. Would be funny if an ambulance just…always followed me…reverse ‘ambulance chaser’…do any billionaires hire ambulances to follow them 24/7?

2:26am: in my memory there was a period of today where I was unconscious. Or. I guess I was just barely functioning, sitting on mattress. Sheesh, right? Sheesh? Did anyone else ever say ‘sheesh’ like it means ‘throwing in the towel, man?’ Is that a Kermit the frog thing?