Volume one: A Stale Meatbowl. The evening is cool, fresh, with a sharp crispness that remains settled in your nostrils long after the air has been expelled. It is an evening for the philosophers. For those who enjoy the harmonic flavors of knowledge. Yes, it is full of subtle hints of vanilla, rosewater, jasmine. I must admit, good friends, there is nothing which titillates my palate more...
I fear I’m losing myself in a sea of intellectual mediocrity.
Aesthetically, I feel like I need another text post on this page. And so I’m going to tell you a mildly unfinished story. It was a cow. In every way it was unmistakably and irrefutably a cow. It did not sing, dance, or assault you with witty phrases. There were no accessories; no hot pink convertibles or whimsical hats. In place of lavish ball gowns with chiseledbodacious escorts, there...
Text message drafts. I noticed I had over a hundred text message drafts saved on my phone. So I decided to peruse through as I deleted them. I got all the way down to November without anything of note, then all of a sudden I reached one with no intended receiver sent at 4:33am: THEY’RE COMING FOR ME.
I fucking love looking through my old note books. There are so many one sided, unfinished, irrelevant conversations, I really don’t know what to do. Anyway. Earlier I found a joke that wasn’t very funny, but as the night has progressed its become better and better, so now I’m going to share it with you: Descartes is chilling in a bar having a drink. Bartender walks up to him,...
Why I never sleep with the closet door open. Ever since I was a child I’ve refused to sleep with my closet door open. I use to think men would hide in there during the day and at night they’d come out to kill me. But, you know. Only if the door was open. Years later I forgot to close it one night and had a really terrifying experience. I’m not going to get into it. But I was so scared I...
I was super jazzed to write something, but I’m too high to remember what it was. Whatever. I’m still ridiculously pumped up so I’ll just write out a really great conversation I had awhile back and had forgotten about until just now. K: What’s the opportunity cost of horizontally integrating with Cooley? P: I’d say it’s comparatively advantageous. K: I...
I'm so pumped about this troll. Thanks, Shane. →
Being sick makes me gloomy.
Even when things are going well I feel this lingering sadness. I’m breathing it in. I sleep with the window open most nights but there’s no relief. It’s amazing how quickly I can go from feeling fucking dandy to being paranoid and lonely. I close my eyes and nothing is the same. I close my eyes and lose myself.
Sick sick sick.
Today I woke up, sicker than ever. Today I woke up and did nothing at all. I should have bought stationary, I wanted new curtains. My room is a mess and the sheets aren’t even on my bed. I’m in a mucusy disarray. Heart is beating, mind is racing. How do I feel? How do I feel? I feel like I’m. Fine? Fine if fine had a lurking undercurrent of sullen wordlessness. But then again, it isn’t really...