12:00PM: exit music from ‘one flew over the cuckoo’s nest’ and ‘glory’ have been alternating in my head since making the video last night. so. not much to report here. good job. you’re still doing good.

12:03PM: the truth is i’m stalling because i’m nervous about posting this update because i’m not in the habit of doing it anymore and i feel like i went a little overboard with some things that are maybe embarrassing. man this is stupid. i just want to do normal shit. this feels fucked up to me now. this is a documentation of a time period where i barely talked or moved or slept. also, like. fuck. let me set the scene for you:

you are late for something you said you’d do every day

nobody cares as much as you, probably

you have an outstanding balance in a bank no one cares about as much as you

and that bank is capital one

capital one: the bank for today, for tomorrow, for you, for life. check out our low financing rates online at our website capitalonebank.com.

not trying to be whatever but i never noticed the way ‘alone’ is situated in ‘capital one’

here’s a writing exercise, try to make this the last sentence of your romance novel:

‘it would take her 27 years to notice the hidden word in ‘capital one;’ until then, there was nothing to do but wait.’

12:34PM: scrolling down the endless scroll of facebook, not looking at anything long enough to fully understand, thinking ‘oh my godddddddd…’ and ‘how is it real’ (not condescendingly, more like overwhelmed with…something…that doesn’t involve the things i’m barely looking at…)

12:38PM: here’s another example of something that gives me that feeling: my dad has a ‘people’ magazine and a ‘rolling stone’ magazine and some kind of hand-held game called ‘pass the pigs’ and three remotes and his folded pajamas and and three books and two cats and me on his bed.

12:41PM: maybe my dad thinks he’s going to die soon and has, like. started asking god for repentance, not telling anyone because he agreed with god to keep this secret, if it meant he could get into heaven. that’s the kind of thing i’m going to do someday, i bet. that’s what the things on the bed are about. feel like i’m the only person who will fully understand the ‘things on the bed’ thing. this might help you understand more, i left it out at first because it feels sad and innocent and tragic and endearing but people might see it as ‘making a character out of my dad,’ but i’m not doing that: there is a sweatshirt that says ‘number one dad’ folded at the end of the bed and my dad wears it to sleep. it’s like he doesn’t believe it. there’s nothing i can do to make him believe it.

12:52PM: vision is doing weird depth perception/enlargening/‘swelling’ of areas and can see neon shadow-like inverse images of things when i move my eyes. they like, follow my eyes. hm. i stink to high hell.