this must be so boring for anyone not me right now, jesus. imagining ‘i’m chill and approachable’ 18-22 year old beach blanket guy saying all of this shit to me without stopping and i’m just staring in the other direction and i can feel him smiling or something. yuck. there are people like that. i’ve talked to them. you might be one of them. you are probably one of them. maybe i am also, shit. how can a person talk continuously at another person staring in the opposite direction, like, willfully away. how could you keep talking, then…or like…ever.

think i only do that when i’m on cocaine. feel like that’s what motivates most people to talk: a desire to find a less-talkative human source to smile and be a repository for their endless talking. something they can really empty themselves into that churns and re-forms all the things they said into minimal blips of encouraging feedback. depressing.

it might seem like i’m being the ‘talking person’ to you now but it’s different because you are choosing to read this and…i can’t sense you being there…or something…i feel like i’m alone, transcribing my thoughts onto something with RAM. have felt consumed by the menial task of downloading my thoughts onto this document since 9AM, maybe. i know i’m not really saying anything and there has been a lot of it but it feels good. like some kind of exercise.

6:25PM: mom made a frozen stir-fry thing of general tso’s chicken. smelled heavenly. the chicken was cubed. felt excited, putting ‘only the best’ scoops on my plate. ‘simply the best.’ freely discarded entire scoops that were ‘not as good’ as others. red bell peppers were not included in any scoops that made it to my plate. fuck no. mom scooped things onto her plate and we used probably six accents to say nonsense stuff in a rapid-fire joke thing i don’t remember, which then petered out. i said ‘i’m from france’ without an accent.