APRIL 5, 2013

1:24AM: ate 20mg adderall. dad helped with ratio math. alvie seems particularly insatiable tonight. he doesn’t seem to want to knead me or be pet. he’s been walking hesitantly and meowing with big eyes, sometimes with with his tail up like he’s happy. he is batting at my slipper and acting startled. now he is trying other shoes. smelling, not touching. now the carpet. smelling and very light batting, more like ‘pawing.’ earlier he looked at me and meowed. when i stood he started trotting confidently, like he had wanted me to follow him. he led me to the middle of the kitchen, where he sat and looked me in the eye and meowed. what could it mean. pictured woody allen going on an alvie rant, finishing with ‘and that’s just like how it was with [woman]. women: [something about women]. i never figured it out.’ which is funny, i forgot i named alvie after woody allen’s character in ‘annie hall.’

now alvie is sniffing between the air mattress and the corner. he is trying to go between them, head-first. jesus. really getting to the bottom of it. investigative journalism. alvie’s after the nitty gritty mattress details.

now it’s a little later, he got stuck and struggled. pulled him out.

1:53AM: mattress seemed to be reducing in height. felt corner where alvie got stuck doing his investigative journalism. felt/heard air leaking from a few holes too small to see. i did a duct tape treatment on the holes. say what you will about alvie’s crazed, fearful disposition—he knows how to expose an air mattress for what it really is. he will spare no expense. relentless, insatiable, hard-hitting: alvie. recipient of the 2014 pulitzer prize for investigative journalism.

2:00AM: i’m always writing ‘2:00AM,’ i feel. always. paranoid mattress is deflating again. moving this shit to the kitchen. or living room, why not? haven’t tried that one yet. alvie and me bringing you the highest quality investigative journalism from the frontline of dad’s apartment. the freshest sources. the timeliest updates.

2:04AM: debated moving piles of things on a desk and setting up ‘workstation’ there but couldn’t find an outlet. just going to sit on couch until battery dies. then i’ll move somewhere else. ‘dad’s apartment: the place you only thought you hadn’t left since sometime last night. more at 11.’ ‘dad’s apartment: a rapidly developing hot-spot for barely moving, but to what expense? more at 11.’

5:05AM: i’ve been typing the ‘existential speed’ part of the math thing. refilled water glass once and ate 15mg adderall. you are getting behind the scenes shit with this info. i feel like weird al. like weird al’s voice is making me continue typing the math thing, pushing me onward, ‘baying.’ weird al baying at me in a voice faster than i can understand. tried to picture weird al and pictured matthew broderick on his horse at the end of ‘glory.’ forever picturing that one scene in ‘glory:’ the megan boyle story.