Friday, May 20, 2016


I am typing this on the world's smallest computer. It's so small that it doesn't even exist. I am typing this IN YOUR MIND. I am also typing this with no contacts on my eyeball. I stepped outside for one godforsaken minute and in those blasted 60 seconds I got some kind of gnarly pollen in my eye, thus causing me to mildly panic, take out my contacts/eyesight, rinse off my gnarly pollen-infected eyeball, take a shower, wash my hair, and... Oh, who cares. Point is, I have seasonal allergies. Aren't you so glad I spent that time to get to this point? And is it even a point or merely an uninteresting fact? Well, it wouldn't be an uninteresting fact if you were a person who murdered people with pollen. Weapon of choice? Pollen, every time.

Okay, now I am sitting in front of the world's most medium sized computer. It exists, unlike the previous computer. But do I exist? This is not just a flippant question. I ask no flippant questions. Never have, never will. So I want to hear your answer: DO I EXIST. Do I exist? Get out your dictionaries, grab your

HEY EVERYONE! I wrote the two above paragraphs last night on some kind of weird high! And what was I trying to grab? We may never know.

Tonight I am on slightly less of a high. All day I have just been, shall we say, medium. Not too hot, not too cold. Not too happy, not too sad. Everything hasn't necessarily been "alright," but it just has been. It was just. Everything was. I don't know how else to explain it. That's okay. I survived another day off of the gym without any major meltdowns. In fact, I am willing to admit that I have secretly kinda sorta liked not going to the gym? It has been an interesting experiment pretending to be somebody else -- somebody who is not obsessive, somebody who is chill as fugg, somebody who actually kinda sorta likes herself. !!! Wowza, I know. Fake it 'till you make it? I just might have to.

Well! Enough of all of this, whatever this has been. Now more of reading poetry (tonight: Adrienne Rich, maybe sprinkled with some Anne Waldman) and attempting transcendental meditation and soul searching followed by a shower with scalding water. This is my kind of Friday night, people. I live large.

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