5:17PM: ate 20mg adderall, 60mg vyvanse. starting to feel big time. making packages like a….frrrrrujjsjdkjksdfjkfdhdsf…macmedics employee called to inform me there is $800+ damage from my ‘800lbs gorilla-like’ drunken machinery dismantling event of the century. he is nice. at the end i said ‘what’s your name again?’ he said ‘brendan.’

8:09PM: beasted out book packages and answered emails. going to brooklyn wednesday, april 17, for interview with alt citizen magazine.

11:59PM: finished three packages. addressed envelopes. wrote ‘behind the scenes’ commentary in books. doing a good job on the drawings, i think. got carried away looking through old family photos to include with books.

APRIL 15, 2013

12:00–1:43AM: mostly looked at old photos. emailed matthew donahoo a photo collage involving my mom, me, and difficulties with a horse. i like vyvanse better than adderall. forgot about liveblog/internet. enjoying assembling packages. wish these weren’t my last books to mail because i like annotating/personalizing them. feel like an idiot for not doing it sooner, sorry to all who haven’t received their copies yet.

2:21AM: i don’t know how it got to be so late. troubling loss of time today. i don’t remember showering or before showering. seems like i lost a day, or more maybe. xanax. bad news.

8:23AM: mom stood in my room’s doorway and said ‘you’re still up?’ and i said ‘i’m still up.’ she said ‘do you want coffee?’ i said i did. this is a first, i think. i don’t know why i said ‘yes’ because i wanted to be neurotic and say ‘no thank you, i’ll get it when i’m ready.’ i don’t even really want coffee right now, though.

8:27AM: now i have coffee.

1:26PM: mom left, said she’ll be back around 4. have been wanting to avoid typing in this. have reached level of ‘talking to myself/listening to my thoughts’ where it seems impossible to surprise/amuse myself.

need a swat team…

‘opposite of self-help’ swat team…

just want…i don’t know…

should i get chic-fil-a…

i’m goddamned shivering a-goddamned-gain when am i going to sleep i’m supposed to be in new york tomorrow at 11AM.

4:29pm: bank teller’s name was donata. ‘Crying of lot 49’ style name, like ‘de nada’ and ‘donate.’ Asked her to look up my savings account number. She said ‘did you used to live in Philadelphia?’ I said ‘yup, yup Philadelphia, fifteen-oh-four north fourth street, that’s me. I might be Margaret, or Megan, I’m not sure what I said.’ she typed things for a while. she said ‘did those hurt’ about my tattoos. I said ‘you know? Only when they were getting done.’ she said ‘hurts just looking at ’em.’ Put arms behind me and said ‘I’ll hide I’ll hide,’ so she wouldn’t have to look. Man with white ponytail and woman approached and donata said ‘can I help you?’ ponytail man said ‘I need to see the manager. The manager of the bank.’ donata continued typing my savings account thing and said ‘one moment just a sec.’ ponytail man’s woman said ‘we have a problem for the manager.’