He used the word passion, which I don’t really believe in. This has made both of us miserable; and misery, I believe in. Which makes indifference seem like the better word to have used, or some strange sum of emotions that met them both halfway. | I keep my stupid job because it keeps me distracted. Or it helps me navigate the foreignness of The Social. I can only be a little bit of an asshole at my job. I have to kitten roll into a punching bag too much of the time–which is something I would be willing to take if we were paid on time, every time. Or I would know how to deal with the emos the whole punching bag thing brings about in me more effectively if the latter were the case. | Ideas for small projects: All the jobs I did not get, All the words he stumbled for, All the pictures he took on my behalf, All the pictures he took on my behalf because they were good ideas. | The next time he contacts me I will tell him he can crash here when he doesn’t feel like Metro Northing it up to his new place. He’s the only friend I have who I’d like to have over. | Learning ambivalence is a fucking treasure.

Scared about the future. | He asked me to lend him the book. It was misalphabetized before Dazai. I had written a story on it, on the book cover I had on it. The story was fine. Short. | We sat against a wall and I had my chin on his knee. Was sad he was leaving the city. He makes it a point to participate in my life, in my time. I still smell the room on my clothes. | The person who treats me like a subhuman laughed that I wouldn’t sit next to him. That was yesterday. I guess we are going to M tomorrow, to see a show he wants to see. I don’t know what I am doing. This much is clear. | Whatever, whatever, whatever.

I recorded a story of L. Davis’ for him and sent it through my phone. | Distance does some terrible shit to people. | The person at work who treats me like a subhuman sends me texts and emails that could be mistaken as endearing. | Work today: Updated the _ _ with something like 100 new _s. Dealt with my boss e-mail-shaming me with the whole office cc’d about a FedEx package that would not arrive in time. I put an end to it by mass responding with: I cannot do anything about this. I should have responded with: Think before you procrastinate. I was also blamed for the copier not accepting faxes (because they were too cheap to to add a fax kit to the lease). I’m a punching bag. I’m a pushover for staying. I’m a pushover for not demanding the 3 pay cycles worth of $ they owe. | He wasn’t there that day. He wasn’t ever really there for me.

Lessons learned: 1) Each of my friends has an I’m listening tell. I tried this out on my boss and from what I gather, he only likes the sound of his own voice. 2) It’s okay if life sucks for a while. 3) There’s not much hope where it involves the stuff I don’t allow myself to write about on here, but there is always the possibility. And I guess that, by now faint, wink of possibility has me focused. 4) Most only-children would be less assholey if they had siblings or someone mimicking a sibling/someone who helps guide their moral compass. 5) It’s just blanking fine if you believe in FAIRNESS and KEEPING PROMISES. I promise.

1) I hate it when books are arranged by color. I see it and think Douche. 2) The past two weeks–been showered, downpoured with bad luck. 3) BAD IS LOVE. 4) Work AT THE ARCHITECTURE FIRM is messed up. When next Tuesday rolls around, they will have missed 3 pay cycles. I am considering reporting my employers to the Labor Department without warning them. 5) They’re not going to get away with not paying interns. Especially since their interns work on jobs for which they are paid. I have had enough! I don’t want to be one of those assholes who supports this bullshit culture of all work no pay. Fuck them!

(New tag Reading WordPress) While scanning WordPress, I read a post called “4 Reasons Why You Shouldn’t Attend Art School”,* which was a followup to some reasons why art school should be attended (one of the reasons was access to Adobe progs on the cheap??? What???**). Here are 4 reasons why you should attend and pay for art school: 1) You don’t know how to draw (/you are not a graphic designer just because you know how to push shit around in whatever Adobe prog u think graphic designers use)–just because it looks like the thing in front of you doesn’t mean it means like the thing in front of you or mean in the way you intended (/just because it looks cool doesn’t mean it is well-designed). At (the right) art school, you learn how things mean and how meaning is conceptually conveyed. You also learn that there is a difference between Art and Design. 2) Art practice is a discipline and, more importantly, art has a context. Dicking around on yr own doesn’t mean yr making art. Making art in the vacuum of your spare room and occasionally showing your work at a craft fair IS NOT art. You’ll be around people who are vastly more talented than you and you’ll compete (with yourself before them) to become a better producer. Competition, and what can be learned from it / participating in it, always gets such a bad rap. 3) If you go to the right art school, you figure out how to make a LIVING from the shit you create. Or you’re next to a neighboring school where you can learn these things and your time at that school counts as credit. Or you can cross-register and enroll at that other school and walk away from art school as more than an artist and walk away with another skillset that can be used for find a job in Reality that supports your artistic practice. 4) Criticism. At the right art school, you’ll be around educators and other artists who will tell you your work SUCKS and you’ll obsess about why your work SUCKS and you’ll make better work and focus on what you mean, why you mean. You get the opportunity to figure out who you’re meaning for. You learn that you’re not ORIGINAL and that TALENT is a load of shit. And if you know the latter already, you learn how to be some humble asshole capable of asking questions about your work, like Does anyone need this shit? Is this changing the world? How does this change the world? How is this new? Does it even have to be new? | What a jumble!

I will never be able to call myself a New Yorker, but I love being able to call New York (namely Manhattan) home. | I occupy two worlds right now: Reality and This World. | Reality: Still chipping away at the 2-day extended break from Reality. Reality includes the 9 to 5 and all the shit that goes hand in hand with pretending I care about the thing, really caring about it, etc. etc. etc. My boss contacted me to scold me about a $600 invoice that was not paper mailed and therefore not scannable and then about her not knowing about it. I mean, what am I supposed to write back (read in-head in robot voice, think Vicky from Small Wonder): Hi, hello, I do not have access to your email. Ergo, I cannot read it. Ergo, I cannot tell you about pressing deadlines I have no access to. Peace out have a good day. Over the last day of my self-imposed break from Reality, I have to send followup emails, worry about when I will receive my paycheck (now 8 days left and officially illegal/citable), contact some well-known architect for his _ for one of the Principals like I could somehow get him to pay attention to such a petty request, ETC ETC ETC ETC fuck me. | This World: This World has been a real bitch lately. It is difficult to stand up for myself, | I can’t keep writing.