Post Title

I was extremely lethargic, watching Rhett and Link videos for most of the day.
I am almost frantic now. I feel life going by. I feel like I have to do something or I might implode and cease to be. I ate White Castle frozen burgers for breakfast. I ate a black bean burger and tortilla chips and cheddar cheese and cheerios and peanut butter all within about 2 hours.
I have had minimal textual contact. Jan called me, and we talked for a few minutes.
I am very okay at typing.
I'm listening to Modest Mouse. I read my old breakdown of what life is and should be. It was semi-inspirational.
I almost hate getting on facebook. I will ban it from myself for a week.
Reading any of the books I brought almost seems impossible. How am I going to read? Focusing is the most difficult task. It was actually Ugly Casanova that I was listening to.
I think I am addicted to the images of Rhett and Link and the sounds of their voices.
I am acutely aware of not having been outside today.
I had some weird, dramatic dreams.
I have to I have to.
There are one million and one things to say ay ay. I'm not singing, just repeating myself.
I reeally do not feel alive. I like Levek's music.
I cannot feel. All I do is feel. I cannot think. I cannot be. I want to sing.
UI ahve moved to the dining room table.
I feel bad for Traveler, the cat. It's too early to feed him and I am too afraid of anything happening to him and of losing him to let him outside.
I keep thinking that I am insane. Nothing about my behavior indicates sanity.
I am going to Hamilton Pool tom orrow with Ashley Oney. I know her full name. I only have vague ideas of how to connect with her. I think we're only friends because we are both very easy-going and like a lot of the same things.
It frightens me to try to connect with Aaron. It feels like hope, sanity, faith, and existence are at stake in our relationship.
I must be way too serious. I must be way too ungrateful. I am not really either. At least I try not to be.
There is nothing for me to do. I cannot go outside. I could, but I would not be at ease trying to figure out what to do in a place where people can see me. I am afaraind of carpull tunnel sindrome.
I want to eat my own face.
I want to tear off my genitalls.
This makes me think I may not be sane. I don't really want to, but I think I do, because something is frustrating me. Something about my actions, my choices, my personality.
It's the nothingness, the horror. The triviality, the sameness, the oneness, the endlessness.
Eagerness, anticipation, dumbfoundedness. Tastelessness. Brutality. Insanity. Blossoming.
These things in one way or another are killing me and driving me up inside a tree.

I am a peaceful ocean scene. Carolyn bought Toaster a thomas. She sent it in mail. It's in box. It's over roads  in North America. It's unending oneness. It's a trivial map route. Inside the Toaster's brain there's a matchbox. It is creating early human ancestors. There are rainy days on the coast of Oregon. It is becoming night again and night again. There are fires everywhere in the human bodies. Little cats have fires in every little cat hair. There are blazing hairs and there is no relief. There are no days off.
There are no endless hair brains, filling out forms and putting out fires.
There is something in listening to regina Spektor.
We can go everywhere. Perpetually human, suspended and open.
That is good to say, and to ty



pe.
bye