Office Space.

I don't think I could feel more divided. At once utterly exhausted from staying up all night writing and full of frantic mental energy to get more done.

Sounds are scary.

Impetus

Ah yes. That's right. I forgot that there was a reason to stay on the sidelines, behind the camera. It's a straight shot of chagrin to be forced to realize that. You know why you stepped off the stage. It's a little worse to be immortalized in close-ups.

Too late now. Maybe you'll remember next time.


Probably not. The ego of hope is a lot stronger than logic. Why such a superficial thing is so dangerous I'll never understand.



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Jean-Michel Basquiat and the chronology of an idiot-savant college student.

Well, that could have been more fun. There is something about leaving difficult work till the last minute that means I will look at the clock constantly, in agony, and memorize the time. Like so.

1:25 pm: maybe i should start that paper that's due tomorrow. What's my topic again?

2:10 pm: Mental breakdown number one.

3:00-6:00 pm: Two additional biographic possibilities thoroughly researched and dismissed. Exceedingly difficult thesis and its representative decided upon. Piles of articles found.

12:26 am: Research concluded. Boy very sick, made tea and wrapped in blanket with cats.

12:53 am: First words penned.

2:43 am: Inevitable loss of mind at end of second paragraph. Crawled into bed with Boy to nap for a short time.

3:20 am: Alarm goes off. Not having slept, lost glasses and began second Mental Breakdown of evening. Really more of a tantrum as am very sick.

5:00 am: Sleeping it off, dreaming of Basquiat, Haitian beaches, and a friend from high school. Paper writes itself in the surf.

8:00 am: Awake without transcript from dream. See Tired Boy off for work, feed cats. Coax Small Cat away from Queen of All Tigers' food and sit down to write again. Notes look like cuneform, or possibly Linear B.

9:38 am: Tapped out conclusion, deliberately leaving off a bibliography so as not to be late. Will claim to have forgotten to print that page. Rushed out door.

Time management is for people without severe emotional and organizational handicaps.




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Trafelnuma

Not in the mood for people today. At least, not the choking, homogenous crowds that this school has to offer.

I want to return to the sense of safety and sanity that a few moments yesterday offered. I want to fast forward to directing today's first production before I get too scared to film. I want tonight and every other to last longer, without needing to sleep.




I wish I had a portable chyrsalis.

Post haste

Good afternoon,
Up till now, it may have escaped your notice that you are a very bad person. It is our duty to inform you that your judgmental rages, selfishness, and general emotional incompetence will no longer be suffered.

Stop taking for granted what you are lucky to have. Don't use your supposedly difficult upbringing as an excuse to be pathetic. Act like a human, not a socipathic, infantle rodent.

If you do not rectify the behaviors and grievances we have mentioned to you, we will be forced to take action against you, and we will enjoy it.

Sincerely,

CoGFGAaOGOF
(The Coalition of Gods, Fates, Guardian Angels, and Other Generalized Outside Forces)


Why don't we ever get bills like that in the mail?

Rain.

I skipped the same class three times in one week, which begs the question of whether it's really worth it to go back at all. Still, finally got that four hours of sleep i've been craving, and started my first decent painting since forever-ago.

It seems illogical that we have to sneak out of our lives to feel like real people.

At least the clouds look nice.

cliks

There have been so many days of late during which I suddenly and forcefully remember what that particular day felt like a year ago.

It's not a good or honorable reminiscence.


I can in all confidence say that I'm tired of the helplessness and the unfocused terror. I wish that time had the marked delineations of calendar years and chapters in novels. When a time is over, the next one is different, affording the possibility to let things carry over just a little bit less.

Also, I really hate it when people sing in crowded places in just such a way as to show off how good they are at singing. We get it, you're special and we're all very envious. Whatever happened to wearing talent with grace, to not constantly having to prove yourself?

End tangent, and on.

Does anyone follow the advice they give? Or is possessing human insight like being a muse- using it for others comes naturally, but poor Salma Hayek can't write a thing for herself?

The new experiment of the off-calendar year is to see if deciding a thing makes it believable, makes it real.