3:39AM: afraid to sleep, i think. i don’t feel tired at all. like i don’t want to sleep unless i go to sleep at 11PM but i keep missing my ‘11PM train.’ right now i could be sleeping or i could be doing anything else but sleeping. sleeping does feel good. it sucks that you can only sort of re-play dreams but you can never re-play sleep. er. meditation, kind of. not really. you know what i mean.

interesting thing: around midnight i felt sudden dawning horror that the ‘turtle shell’/wavy heat rising effect/cross-eyed focus on convex part of the eyeball—like the pattern that was really moving were all of these disgusting boomberang shapes, it was so crowded, they were taking up everything and moving in a sickly maggot way. and. AND! you know what they were? i think? i think they were my rods and cones. i think. i don’t know if you can see those. oh my god though thinking about seeing them, no, stop it, disgusting. i experience this thing ‘tryptophobia’ which is like this dizzying sickness at seeing small holes close together. found out rods and cones aren’t on your cornea, they’re like, back near the optic nerve or something, so maybe i was seeing some kind of inverse image of…i don’t know. if anyone knows about this stuff i’m curious about it.

4:15AM: ‘liked’ a lot of mallory whitten’s photos from young americans tour facebook album. hard-to-identify positive emotions. everyone keeps looking different. emotions. keep draining then filling tub with hot water and scrubbing tub with yellow sponge and dr. bronner’s soap before tub fills and the sides look clean again. keep pulling off skin. the skin is gray and floating and won’t drain all the way. i don’t feel gross or anything, sitting with it. i was sitting with it before i was in the tub too. have never felt that ‘sitting in your own filth’ aversion people have to baths. you were just…you’re always going to be doing that…baths…i don’t know, rinse off afterwards. man the fuck up.

ate another xanax to make me tired again. listening to buddy holly. want to like buddy holly. i’m going to try to listen to more music, i used to be a listener and seeker of new music. 2003-2008. ‘music person’ days. hell yeah. have been scrolling through ex-boyfriend’s eclectic selection. he has a lot of butthole surfers. listening to ‘pepper.’ if you are someone who knows ‘pepper’ by butthole surfers and knows that primitive radio gods song with the long title and knows that bran van 3000 song ‘drinking in l.a.’ and knows that placebo song that people think is ‘pepper’ by butthole surfers but is like ‘pure morning’ or something—it will be like ‘teehee we have secrets’ and i will always feel this warm thing and talk about you to people years after we stop talking. i’ll say, like, ‘yeah we both knew all of those songs’ and i’ll miss you deeply but i won’t know what to say to you anymore. it won’t make any sense.