Life is shit, but there are things that are not shit: The Met Breuer Sottsass show (dick vase, drawings), the Deadeye Dick show at Peter Freeman¹. The latter is one of the best I have seen in New York and the thing was joyful. Going back when I resume work on Tuesday, good lunch break, plus I want to take a picture of the _ _ portrait of Bellamy. | I took 4 days off work and so far the 4 days have involved someone telling me what a shit I am. It is not fun, but I am nice anyway. And not in the way I am nice to Captain Yale because that is a false nice used to manipulate our boss into thinking that everything is just fucking fine at the office. I stopped by the office to pick up a copy of a book containing an interview I transcribed to give to the person who has been telling me what a shit I am. | I am a person whose love language (I have never read that book) involves making shit for other people (objects, projects, writing), making shit with other people in mind, filling IRL mailboxes with greetings in the form of _s with, by now, illegible handwritten text, etc. This hasn’t changed since I was little and it all started with a painted _ I gave my father on Father’s Day. He brought the thing to the office and kept it in all his offices since I gifted it to him, so I figured he liked it. I have never given my mother anything but heartbreak, but that’s not to write that I don’t love her. I try to love her. | I have to stay focused the next few weeks. I have to be a good friend over the next few weeks. I have to be good. I have to recover my routine. I have to schedule time with my analyst. I have to recover some interest in my 9 to 5. | How I describe my 9 to 5 to other people I have a dumb, architecture related job. It may be dumb, but I do it well.

I am that asshole who doesn’t need Facebook to remember your birthday. Who quit Facebook in order to remember it off the top of the pink. I am the asshole that remembers your birthday even though it is inappropriate to well wish you. I am the asshole that remembers your strengths and dreams and fears. I am the asshole you don’t talk to for 10 years then suddenly contact out of the blue. | Talk about being in a bad place. She tells me If you find yourself there you need to find someone to talk to. and I believe her. | Fear of abandonment, fear of rejection are all nothing when compared to the fear that even those closest to you won’t stand up for you. | The fat man on the train smells like a synthetic bath surround caked with too many dead skin cells x molded bath towel that tried to scrape off rings of dead skin. Belly flop, belly top. | If there was a guarantee that no synthetic clothing is worn in Heaven holy shit sign me up for all that hullabaloo where people want to end up there. My father’s hullabaloo, the hullabaloo P got into before he died at 32. Hook me up with that brand of Fear of God. F.O.G. | I took a risk and chose the option that was, by her what I imagine constant judgment of me, less obvious. AirBnB, no staying at the house I love. When I think about the house and the work I did in it, all I can think about is (continued later). House I Love II, that is.| Distance between two people is a bitch. Or put distance between two people and it will certainly almost always turn one of them into a nasty bitch toward the other. Or both into clawing bitches capable of the worst both bitches share. Or put distance between two people and maybe, just maybe, the hope of one is enough for both.

Sobs all over. | I have taken to being as nice as possible toward Captain Yale. I figure if he’s not going to treat me like a human being, I may as well practice at treating everyone like one on him. Today’s hit: Captain Yale sat in the other Project Manager’s seat, at which point I turned to him and said Well, hello [other Project Manager’s Name], at which he let out a lil laugh. | As an elementary school kid, I wanted to be the class clown, or at least the girl class clown. I think I was mostly successful, but a lonely sort of it. | A BEE or WASP or WHATEVER THE BLANK ELSE THAT STINGS bit me on the spine, lil shit went right through my bra band, on Sunday while I was up at _’s house dicking around in the weeds. I’m probs the lil shit that deserved it though, for poking around at some flowers WHATEVER IT WAS wanted to have a go at. I spent a sum of an hour Googling X bite on dark skin, X bite on _ skin, X bite resembling burn, tick bite through clothing, tick bite with no ring, X bite dollar coin size, X bite with dry skin patch around, X bite dry skin patch rash around spreading, X bite numbness leg hand one side of body, X bite tetanus shot update?, X bite develop symptoms slow to show–all -animal. I didn’t even care who saw all the Googling. I didn’t really come up with anything and I’m in a real panic and feel like a bear with an itch on its back and when I take this pair of antihistamines I’ll feel like a voracious bear with an itch and will probs have to head down to the friedfooderia to get my fill. | He is humorless. | My humor is odd and best expressed through my tough as shit and ugly at some angles short hair cut. | I can hear him saying You’ve (just) never had any direction. That’s what the problem’s been the whole time. | I’ll internalize everything sentimental I’m reading in some book I’ve been enjoying reading on the 6 ride to the chokehold on making time and then back to The Hood. This Island’s The Hood proper. | I spent 20 minutes of the WHATEVER STUNG ME hour wishing I could die from the whatever’s sting, multiplying the dollar coin sized burn mark on every last surface of my body. My Girl. My Boy. My Bite. Google, X bite death.| She told me about swimming in the Lake and an eloquent 32 year-old she met on a boat on the lake and I thought I am terrified of the way she describes me to other people but I care about her more than she knows anyway and tried to calculate her age based on the year she was double mine. | The laughter I had toward the words in the book snapped out of it and I was just sitting there sobbing. I wondered what I am practicing, what I still have discipline enough to practice and really (just) came up with nothing.

When Captain Yale drinks his coffee, he slurps it. Suhhhhluurhp, suhsuhsuhlurrrrp. This happens three times a day. When I drink my coffee, I tip my cup to clear off just enough foam so that when I drink out of the cup the foam does not hit my lips. Treat the foam as a decorative layer. By the time I get to the end of the cup, there is a layer of foam with either a heart or leaf shape, depending on who prepared the coffee. The leaf is definitely executed with more care. The person who prepares the coffee with the leaf looks like he should be from Salt Lake City. I think I annoy Captain Yale a lot because I can’t sit still at work. I mean I get it. Blank I hate me at work too. | I spent 5 hours of the work day on some project of mine which involved worrying for an hour about whether Super 77, when dried out between two layers of _, would cause an explosion when run through the _. A tangible sort of worry. A sweat through my poplin shirt sort of worry as I hit Print. No explosion, but the worry was enough to make me reconsider adhesives. Silicon it is. When I see the word silicon I think of those children’s toys, those weird infinity wiggle tubes–what exactly was the point of those / the things have nothing to do with silicon / what I am writing has nothing to do with anything. / At 11:30, my phone apes out and rings and vibrates: It’s time to go to bed! Stop whatever the blank you’re doing! You better not be staring at a screen! | The slurping really bothers me. It’s the sort of shit only men who don’t put the toilet seat down at an office where everyone shares the same wc do. It is rude. There should be a Seat’s Up! alarm in the office wc. Thing’d be going off all day. Tuck yr junk in seat down wash yr hands u fuck. | I got so much done at work today. I responded to all emails within 5 minutes. | Phone says it is time to sleep. Peace Out!

I woke up in a crisis this morning but am pleased to write I got 3 hours of sleep. | Recent sleeplessness has meant aping around on the World Wide Blanking Web and buying a bunch of random blank: a round dome short brim (as in under 3″) winter hat (full wool and price was decent bc nothing with a firm brim is ever 100% wool and made in not China), some _s for a project, some sleeves for a project, more _s for a project, a Junot Diaz book, some program on a CD (lol $11), some shoes, a mug for my favorite asshole friend (MFAF from here on out but maybe I have too many of them at this point), some old book called Nonverbal Communication that is heavily illustrated, who cares done with this. | I am reading Priestdaddy and was LOLing on the train. Viva fun! Viva vocal laughter around a read! Good God! | A friend was going on ab an ex and god went green in the face. | Captain Yale and I sit with the invisible Project Manager between us and I wish the invisible Project Manager would come back soon but she will be in an Asian country until mid-(!!!)October and I don’t know what I’m going to do w/o her and I wonder why she decided to stay for so long. Something is up and when she gets back I will do a little digging. Know-zeeeeee. No-zzzzzzzzs.

[VACUOUS BLANK:] I got a haircut. More like trim. More like correct my bangs because I cut them when I was delirious after 2.5 days with no sleep. And I haven’t slept for the same amount of time and I spent a good part of the day avoiding Captain Yale at work bc he said [My Name] when he walked into the office probs only bc I took yesterday off bc I have not been sleeping. But it hasn’t been 2.5 days, I mean, I finally got to sleep last night bc I took some sleeping pills. It took me 2 hours to get to sleep and I sprung outta bed as the alarm went off. I was still blanking crazy at work. Heart palpitations from not getting an 8 hour wink. The way he says my name is PERFECT and this is what made me avoid him. So the hair cut–like the hairdresser said, it is a perfect collaboration of our strengths. Though I don’t know what my strength in it was (maybe having the wherewithal to have always had the cut before it became an on point do). Can’t know. Don’t care. | Fears continue re the draft _ is supposed to have a look at. I swear I smell funny. | I got home, took some delicates to the laundromat bc that’s one thing they don’t process drop-off, bought a Cherry Coke Zero, thought WhoTF drinks this shit?, went back and picked up laundry, dinner (lil brick of tuna fish), tried to watch TV, and now I’m still waiting for at least one of my employers to email back about the submittal that is due in 1.5 hours. I guess if I don’t hear from either of them by 11, I’m taking it into my own hands and submitting the thing and they can bitch about it later. Today at work was ???? What the fuck did I do all day. | (Much later) Nevermind. Work sucked all day. And keeps sucking. My boss has some weird idea in her head that I worked there in 2016 and that I’m somehow responsible for accounting in 2016 but in REALITY I am not responsible for accounting or anything from 2016. The blanking blank! Sending emails to employees at 10:49 is whack just like crack just like ppl doing K2 on the street in plain sight whatever the blank K2 is. K2 sounds like the name of a ski run. | The coolest shit you can buy for $300:¹ | I look like a fool in the nicest jewelry I own, which is a pair of Japanese cultured pearl earrings that _’s _ _ _ when we _ _ _. | Togetherness! Now that’s just blanking novel!

I think the whole Smile when you talk on the phone, Smile when you’re writing something that should come off joy-filled when you’re ordinarily not or simply not IRL works. I don’t know that I did this while working on anything all day–a general thought is all. | I finished the website draft and am waiting for _ to send along _s for the 3 _s and I worry that _ won’t _ back _ _ with them _ _ _. But I tried to stay positive about it. While working on the website draft/update stuffffffffffff, my mind kept running with new projects and all the people with whom _’d like to run. The oddest thought was to someone I don’t quite get along with who once wrote (and other verbed), _ is _, true _ the _ the _ know, the _ sustained by _ that _ on its own _ and _s of it at last. I have been repeating versions of the sentiment all day–the sentiment is perfectly worded and I’m guessing the person who I don’t quite get along with has always been his own editor. | Erase the signs. | I bought tickets for the next League lecture but am not going because I have to do one of those things that sits in the Take Care of Yourself container. The only thing I do on a monthly basis that really makes me feel better even though it’s around someone who may not really get me. Who cares and understanding is impossible. But she doesn’t interrupt. Just like the decent Finance bro ex-roommate and his decent friends. I have been better with keeping that whole promise not to interrupt. Maybe to the point where I just never get a word in. | I used to write someone often–letters, whatever. Since we were 7 or something. We stopped writing last year after he visited New York. I have a few guesses why this happened. I don’t miss the exchange and strongly recommend that relationships built in words are kept at words. Who knows why that just crossed my mind. | Other weird blank that is on the brain, a bit of Nietzsche: It is not a lack of love, but a lack of friendship that makes unhappy marriages. (The sentiment written by the homeboy I don’t get along with is more perfect that this even). | When I think of my mother and the home we grew up in, I sort of hate that she never changed the wallpaper that came with my room when we moved in. I think we would have had a better relationship had she. | I have been listening to the same five songs on my headphones on repeat for the last 5 hours. This describes me really well. When I took my headphones off, I realized I also had Dvorak playing full blast outside of headspace. This describes how shit has been pretty well. | Despite whatever I wrote about C in the last post, I sent her a template for a b_. I’m the sort of ahole that trusts the value of friendship no matter how crappy the other person treats the time that sits between us. Maybe I’m a bit of a pushover. A pushover who’s got great hair and looks tough. | I’d like to be high with Chopin and Haus Arafna playing simultaneously. Or maybe that’s a good funeral request. Maybe it’s all too much. | That sentiment, that sentiment, that sentiment, that sentiment, repeat—