stood and felt overcome with nausea. walked faster. vomited maybe four big vomit units into toilet. said ‘huh. how is that BLT still in there?’ ex-boyfriend said ‘gross.’ i said ‘i know.’ he asked why i threw up and i said ‘’cause i did heroin, i think.’ he made an insane jim carey smiling face and said ‘oh noooooo.’ he said ‘in your car?’ i said ‘no-ooo, in here.’ he said ‘oh nooooo’ and clapped and sort of danced in place in a circle. i sat at the kitchen table shivering. it’s not actually that cold in here, i don’t think. ex-boyfriend turned on the shower and i got in maybe two minutes after him. he rubbed soap on his face and with his eyes mostly closed, said ‘i think i have like, they’re doing something to me, i’m a social experiment, where i end up pickling my insides because they made the world so bad.’ i said ‘huh? you’re. wait, why are they doing that to you?’ he said ‘like how they have veal in cages, getting tender and stuff. they’re doing that to me but like, my cage is just the badness of the world, and it makes me pickle my insides with alcohol?’ i said ‘oh, i see. yeah.’ one of us started singing the smashing pumpkins song that’s like ‘despite all my rage i am still just a rat in a cage.’ i said ‘it’s actually: ‘despite all my suede, i am still just a rat in a cage.’ it’s about this rat. he just has so much suede, you see? but he’s still’ ex-boyfriend laughed. no urges to dominate the hot water stream this time, though he seemed to kind of let me.

9:10am: toweled dry, applied coconut oil and clothes. sat at the kitchen table and typed in liveblog document while ex-boyfriend moved from room to room, packing for new jersey. exchanged casual nonsense-like comments sometimes. he’s letting me borrow his library card so i can print things today. watched him write his name and access code on a small piece of paper and thought ‘considerate [his name], kind [his name]’ in ‘giant misunderstood lummox on public display’ voice.

i said ‘it’s impossible to include everything.’ he said ‘yeah, i mean. you can’t.’ he said something about not wanting to read liveblog anymore because it was ‘a waste of his time.’ i said ‘do you feel bad reading it?’ he said ‘well. of course i feel bad when i waste my time.’ i said ‘what is it that you’re wasting exactly, is there anything specific,’ aware of his change in posture and lack of eye contact. remembered what i wrote about ‘how can people talk to someone willfully looking away’ and felt like it would be kind of me to stop talking. was also provoked by his tone. not angry-provoked, curious-provoked. like how it would feel if someone had said, ‘there are things about me that are fascinating, that i will never tell you, and i’ll never tell you why i won’t tell you.’