At one point he said something about how mom is emotional but he feels flat all of the time. Without looking away, I said ‘you seem sad to me.’ He nodded slowly, shrugged and pressed his lips together. I wanted to do something to help. Looked around his apartment and thought about how he has thought about places for all his things to go and has arranged them on purpose. Like an area of slightly different Harley Davidson and Beatles gift-y things given to him by the same people, little statues and toys in a line on a mantle, unopened snack boxes in a line and back-ups of the snacks in the pantry, copies of CDs and self-help books and manila folders stacked carefully in neat piles, affirmations and phone numbers on post-its stuck in unusual places, a large variety of pens, an expensive-looking TV which I think he bought because he thinks mom likes TV and we used to watch movies as a family, when we lived in the same house. He sometimes refers to it as ‘the entertainment center’ and talks about how good the sound is. On a bookcase in his bedroom, too large to fit on the shelves, there is a professionally colored-in, formerly black-and-white photo of him smiling in a Navy uniform in 1957 or 1958, I think, between two bouquets of fake flowers all touching the ceiling, which feels especially sad to me—not in a pitiful way—in a way that makes me want to make his life better for him and wish that things could’ve been better.

MARCH 19, 2013

12:16am: have returned to parking lot of 24-hour grocery store. Driving here I felt strongly that I wouldn’t go inside. People are sitting by the inoperable entrance smoking and talking. Can hear them as if they were a radio station in my car. Just thought it was possible to press something on my phone to immediately ‘show you this.’

12:18am: more employees have come to sit at the operable entrance, at tables under umbrellas. I’m shivering. I’m inside the store. I need to find folders and a stapler. A hole punch. Energy drink. Shivering. I haven’t eaten today or slept since whenever I last mentioned it in liveblog. Pronounced it ‘live-[rhymes with boaje]’ in my head, like, French. French-Canadian.

12:24am: a Paula Abdul song is playing. Have been holding this folder option and staring at it in disbelief, sometimes making little noises, for as long as song has been playing. About 90 seconds into the song now, safe estimate. Paralyzed by the hilarity of this thing. It says ‘title page pocket’ about the title page pocket and it shows you a picture of it too. Unbelievable. My hands holding a picture of hands holding the folder I’m about to buy. Look at the all the hands. Oh my god…