Writing under the assumption and/or hope that no one is reading this

If you are, I hope you’re a good one.

Last week I found this great Gizmodo post called The Creepiest Things You Can Do on Facebook and it was such a treat. I appreciated that the author was so seriously unserious and I took the article as a how-to instructional manual. GREAT FUN! Things I did:

• Put up pictures of my face (while, say, pulling on my lips, putting my fist in my mouth) on people’s walls with no comment
• Left comments on people’s births, graduations, etc., often graphic re: their mother’s junk
• Tagged myself in couple photos
• Requested people’s relationship statii, phone numbers, and addresses (which is really the creepiest, and the most entertaining)

It really was all just too amusing. Today, however, Facebook creeped back at me, because I woke up and it nailed me in the face with something that I supremely didn’t want to see. So I quit Facebook, because that’s the only way.

Social media truly giveth and taketh awayed

It saddens me how I keep thinking of reasons why I might need to get back on Facebook. I suppose I’m writing this as (a) journalling but also (b) as a means of accountability for myself to not hop back on in two days. Or two hours.

When Facebook asked “Why are you leaving?” I selected Other and typed “The person who emotionally annihilated me just won’t go away, so now I have to”

They asked

Things do get better, a lot better, over time, but the feeling of wanting everything to just stop doesn’t dwindle. I have come so far, and yet this thing is still there, about 1/88 of what it used to be, but still there. I keep feeling as though since I have indeed come so far, it should just go away now.

The first step is not caring, or not caring as much, and I’ve done really well on that one. The second step, the harder step, is not caring if someone else cares.

work in progress

Caleb said “Sweater Kinney” and I think that’s rill funny

Had you told me when I was a young sad queer child, when boys were still not yet foul enough to say things like “that’s hot, it’s hot when girls make out, arfarfarf” but instead said foul things like “well maybe you won’t be gay anymore in like, college or something” that I was going to see Sleater-Kinney in February 2015 I would have said

And if you would have gone on to say that when I see them, Corin Tucker will be married to a man and Carrie will be a kind of superfamous ambiguously heterosexual person and you’re going to put a GIF of her on your blog and there are going to be things called GIFs and you’re going to know what they are that would have been pretty crazy, too. Does anyone else feel sexual confusion when the icons that helped them through sexual confusion end up married to men and/or kind of superfamous and people assume they’re married to men? I guess not sexual confusion as much as goddamnit, I wanted to be the one to marry Corin! Not really, though. Carrie Brownstein was my first love. FACT. I still want to marry Carrie, but now she’s extra unattainable, what with all of her Armisen-adjacent fame. Just, had I known when I was a sad struggling queer kid that I would get to see Sleater-Kinney in real life, and that they wouldn’t just be this intangible glimmer of hope that made me feel it was OK to be me, I would have felt like evry’ting was gonna be a little bit better.

I am sewsewsewsew excited. I put a reminder to buy tickets on my Outlook calendar at work and got a pop-up saying “You have an appointment starting in 15 minutes_SLEATKERIERNNYTIX!!!!!!!!!” and I just feel that so much of what I’ve lived for has now been realized

Remember how in January 2014 I said I was going to start blogging regularly? LOLOLOLOLZZ because it’s the end of October. Quit bitin’ yer nails, here I be!

Things are really WILDLY different now, than then. I live in Philadelphia! Philly is SO dope! Who knew?! A lot of dope people already living in Philly, apparently. I think I didn’t realize quite how sad I was down there, down below, in those posts below this one, but WHOA was I ever sad. Now I barely even cry twice a month! I put snail slime that comes from Korea all over my face because it makes my faceskin look nice, or that’s what the internet says, anyway. I got these really fly shoes for work, they’re pretty punque roque and even though most people couldn’t pull them off at work

I think I pull them off pritty nice

Every day this week I’ve driven past a perfectly intact dead adolescent deer near my office and it hasn’t started decomposing and it has a goatface. As in its face looks like the face of a goat. I think? I guess I don’t really know what deer are supposed to look like. I mean I know what deer look like, but I’m unsure of how goatish they naturally are. In the face, I mean. In terms of being goatishly-faced. Somewhat morbid to google that shit now, yeah? Whatever. I want someone to take care of the goatface deer so all the poor New Jersey commuters don’t have to keep driving past its constant reminder of mortality and how little anyone cares

just joshin, that’s DARK

Fate: I want to know what that one event is that a whole series of events hinge upon. I was thinking, about how dramatically my circumstances have changed in seemingly such little time, that maybe if that day I hadn’t checked my phone after I had Pulaski BBQ with Steph after I laid on her couch with the dog while she had to go teach and watched What to Expect When You’re Expecting which the Black Lips were in and that was weird, if I hadn’t checked my phone and said to Steph “I know I need to go correct grades and I need to be up real early in the morning, but my friend that lives right here texted and said ‘hey saw you nearby, come hang out for a bit’ and I haven’t seen him in a month! and I’m only going to go over for a little bit” if maybe I wouldn’t be where I am now. I mean, where I am now is fantastic, way better than where I was then, to be clear. So yeah, anyway, I was thinking about if I hadn’t seen that text, where would I be now?

when it occurred to me that maybe that text wasn’t the important, pivotal moment. What if, WHAT IF, it was my decision to fucking watch that bad bad movie (not even GOOD bad movie) What to Expect When You’re Expecting was the moment that changed everything? That while watching it, and saying “hey, why are the Black Lips making a cameo in this movie? I guess this way if I tell people later I was just hanging out watching this movie and Black Lips were in it and it was What to Expect When You’re Expecting I can deflect that I was watching What to Expect When You’re Expecting into a Black Lips conversation” I was really setting all of the events in motion? I don’t even know what I just typed

I don’t know what the last two paragraphs say

, but it IS really weird that Black Lips were in What to Expect When You’re Expecting, playing in this REALLY weird scene when Anna Kendrick says to that pretty guy from Gossip Girl “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE I JUST MISCARRIED YOUR BABY” and he says “OF COURSE I’M HERE THIS IS LIKE MY FAVORITE BAND, YOU KNOW THAT FROM BEFORE WE HAD ILL-ADVISED UNPROTECTED SEX AND THEN YOU HAD A MISCARRIAGE!”

that movie fucking sucked man

Hey you guys, I missed you. I think I avoided writing for a while because I got this idea that my writing would be better and funnier and generally more engaging to others and myself if I tried to write in a more linear, coherent, intellectual, arty fashion, but I was writing that way in my notebook, and it all sounded like pretentious, poorly written bullshit. And I thought that was because I was a bad writer and I didn’t really enjoy writing.

In reality, I’m a bad writer anc I LOVE writing! I love writing like this! I LIKE THAT I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M SAYING, AND I LIKE THAT YOU DON’T EITHER!!!

All the Fall Out Boy, and then it’ll never happen again, I promise

It’s sew sew strange

Growing old, I mean

I remember thinking, a bunch of years ago, that I knew I was getting older because I could look back on being younger and FEELING like I was really younger then, in the golden oldens. Now I have once again forgotten that things used to be different, and that I am a different person than I was even 1, 2 years ago. Unsure as to whether that makes me extra old, newly and freshly old, or young again. I saw lots o’ folk last night that I hadn’t seen in about 7 years (a staggering calculation) and I felt like I was so grown into myself when I knew them but I now realize I was not at all, because being with them made me aware of how dramatically different I am now. Not in a bad way, at all, and it was wonderful to catch up with people and engage in so much hugging because hugz ❤ but I’m not the man they once knew anymore. After you’ve been what I’ve been through, and seen what I’ve seen,

no just kidding I haven’t changed like that, bra, but I guess what I’m trying to so succinctly say is that growing into myself was a process. It did not happen over night, or even in a year or two years or three years. I hope this moves you to tears and you bring it to your therapist and ask WHY CAN’T I BE THIS PROFOUND?! and you’ll freewrite about it and read it to your writer bros at your writers group and it will inspire your next dreamgaze record and it really makes you THINK, you know, like THINK really hard, about aging and mmrs and time and tides and times

Mmrs means memories without vowels, in case you didn’t know. I stole it from that falloutXboy song THNKS FR TH MMRS but not for the vowels, apparently. pprntly? or pprntl, if y is counted as a vowel. Those guys are kewl with a capital Q. If I were them I would’ve called it THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES because it would be really hard to remember events without vowels. It would be hard to understand what was going on in the first place, I mean can you imagine processing life without vowels AND THEN going back to remember it, double without vowels? That’s rough, bro, rough. I guess I don’t get where they’re coming from because I’m not a punk like Pete Wentz and I guess I don’t listen to enough hardcore punk muzeek like him and I wear brown eyeliner not black so much anymore

I do genuinely enjoy that song though. If it comes on the radio while I’m in the car I get pretty excited. Not St. Elmo’s Fire excited or One Night in Bangkok excited but reasonably excited. I think the entire idea of The Fallout Boiz is funny. Can you imagine the old viagroid record executives sitting and talking about whether they would be a good business investment, saying like LET’S SIGN THEM, THEY’RE KEWL WITH A CAPITAL Q!! THEY’RE EDGY, I BET MY SON WILL TOUGHEN UP REAL NICE AFTER LISTENING TO ‘DEM HOOLIGANS, THOSE BAD BAD FALLOUT GANGSTERS, AND MY DAUGHTER WILL HAVE HER PANTIES IN A PRETZEL

Rich old white people trying to be cool is definitely the reason for Fallout Boy

This blog entry was sponsored by the letter Q and Rich Old White People And Viewers Like You!

A few months ago I heard a radio commercial and the announcer had a deep exciting movie voice (like Gob and club sauce) and said “A reunion years in the making….one of the defining bands of this generation…a new album…a new tour…a new beginning” and I thought “YAAAAY I LOVE NEW EDITION I’m glad those guys could work it out” and then the announcer said “FALLOUT BOY 2014” and I sniggered because what?!?!?!?! I bet when the commercial people recorded that commercial they were either a) genuinely that excited about the announcement, because that’s really sad or b) they were super baked and it was the funniest thing that ever happened. I hope B, I hope B ssoso hard.

Do you remember when peteXwentz and Ashleeee Simpson had a baby and named it Mowgli, because they really loved The Jungle Book? That’s a good reason. I bet that baby can handle it though, with that gene pool. That baby probably wasn’t even born, it probably punched its way out, it Henryrollinsded its way out of the womb like “bam bam bam I’m Mowgli my parents are rock ROYALTY I am so hardcore watch me shred on my bass geetar just like my dad”

I find it not coincidental that WordPress just told me the word count for this entry was 666

I’ll stop with all the falloutboy now, because they are very not talented innit.

Speaking of 100% pure earrape, I just opened Spotify and this is what I saw:

 

No Spotify, don’t Play now you fucking morons. I feel really insulted by Spotify that this happened. Once on vacation a boy played this for me on piano and I think he thought he was engaging in sensual seduction but he really wasn’t. It worked anyway tho

Anthony Weiner is on TV right now and I’m shuddering. What a wormy, slimy guy.

He’s pretty wormy and slimy, too. AYOOOOO

get it get it? It’s a penis joke

Penises are hilarious…when you’re young. Look back at the beginning of this post. See what I did there? BRINGING IT FULL CIRCLE, CIRCUMFERENCE OF THIS POST=INFINITY

so that’s what I’ve been up to lately, since you asked

Happy pneuyear!

It is 2014.

The celebration of a new year should have as much weight as that when it turns from Thursday to Friday, or from 7.30pm to 7.31pm,  which is to say

None at all.

Even though this is a bullshit arbitrary holiday (and even more so than all the other bullshit arbitrary holidays) (seriously bro, you’re celebrating the calendar. That’s what you’re doing. HAIL CAESAR), it’s difficult to not get caught up in the spirit. Each year, I engage in the same monologue: “I’m not doing anything, FUCK THAT SHIT” and every year (except last year, when I fell asleep alone on the couch at 11.54) I feel like I’m missing out and end up going out and getting tired and spending too much money and being disappointed. This year…this year I DIDN’T miss out AND I got to do nothing. Truly, I lived the dream.

I had dinner with my dear friend Brittany and we made a t-chart of the horrible things we’d done each month out of the year. Have a look at the [censored] version, because I can’t tell you about all of the horrible things we did, you goose!

 

It was a pretty fun idea. Almost a self-airing of grievances, if you will. On a holiday that is perhaps even less significant than Festivus.

The moral of the list was that we’re not that terrible, because we’re really not! We all do shitty things that really aren’t that shitty. The vast majority of my shitty things, occurring throughout the second part of the year, were mostly being needlessly miserable and oozing misery slime all over anyone kind enough to be near me. That was really shitty, Al. That’s not a good way to keep friends around. LUCKILY I HAVE SUCH GOOD FRENDZ THO

Moving forward, I went to a partay and saw lots of friends and downed a bottle of seltzer that I brought (because that’s how I BE, now, all sober and shit) and at 10pm I said: Hey guys fuck this it’s fun and all but I don’t want to be wearing pants right now so SEE YA. And people thought I was being silly. Right as I was leaving June my dearest bud walked in and I yelled “WHOA, NOW I’M STAYING!” and it was very insulting to all of the other people at the party.

At 11 I got bored of June, too, so I drove home around 11.15. 

There’s this vague notion that stays with me as to the significance of what you are doing at midnight on 1 Jan as an omen for the rest of your year. I think that’s why I went out, at all, so that I won’t be all alone and have no friends in 2014. I hate falling victim to such stupidity. At 12am this New Year I was

in the elevator going upstairs.

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? Nothing, almost certainly. I do take some stock in “setting the tone for the new year” as the year changes though, so the elevator could mean numerous things: I will be “going up” in status/success/NOT weight, I will have a lot of boners, I will die and go to heaven. So probably boners

A bunch of people said “Don’t you want to spend the new year surrounded by your friends?!” and I thought “I would like to see my friends throughout 2014, BUT”

really I just wanted to be pantless and dance around to Misfits pantsless so that’s exactly what I did from about 12.01am-12.06am until I was out of breath. This means that I spent my important new year’s transitional point: DOING WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANTED, which is a KILLA tone to set for the year. It’s 2014, and I don’t give a shit! Yahoooooo!

People really can’t drive on New Year’s because they’re drunk. I think I prefer high drivers to drunk drivers because at least high drivers are paranoid so at worst, they driiiiiiveeee suuuuuuppppppeeeeeeerrrrr sssssslllllooooooowwwwwwllllllllyyyyyyy and in really straight lines. This New Year’s I learned a new traffic law from a fellow driver: DIDYOUKNOW traffic lights are discretionary? Like, suggestions as to what to do? As in “You COULD stop and wait for the light to turn, or you could pause and then go 80 on a side street”

I’m really glad I didn’t get hit

So happy new year, jerks. What else is new? I’m sober.

Being sober means drinking lots of water/seltzer which is SO great because I got really skinny and I pee all the time because my bod is just BURSTING with agua: the building block for a superior species of being. I’m so hydrated I’m probably going to Animorph into a dolphin tortoise which would be cool because I love swimming

I’d be such a fast swimmer and I’ve always wanted to lay an egg

I am going to go postal on the IRS. Would that be going IRS on the IRS? I don’t know. I don’t know.

I’ve been engaging in a record amount of self-aggrandizing lately and telling everyone about how hard I am a champ, but not even sarcastically. I really mean it. I really think I am the Hova of my generation. A modern-day Alexander.

*important note: this is the beginning of NEW BLOGGING. It will be consistent. I am likely going to e-mail blast this shit to everyone in my address book, so…have fun with that every time I decide to blog. If you would like to receive these e-mails/would like to stop receiving them because you don’t really care, h0lla.

Pain. Gain. (edit: this is a big corny cornball. Try not to get burned)

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Before that, though, do check to make sure the lemons aren’t water balloons filled with urine, because then your lemonade will just be a cup of urine, and that is FUCKING grimy. No one can be expected to make lemonade with piss. Also, God is dead, yadda yadda yadda.

–Friedrich Nietzsche

That embodies what I’ve always loved about philosophy. There are truly some wonderful quotations to speak to any scenario, and even though they grow trite on people’s Facebook statuses née AIM away messages, sometimes you just know when a platitude fits you, right? RIGHT. Nietzsche’s just tremendous. Universal, even today.

I’ve been having a…say, kind of really shit few weeks. Not in terms of health (probably, I do have a health problem but I already owe money to the health center so I can’t have this new one investigated yet), or my career, or anything that matters, but interpersonally. To rephrase: I’ve made my past few weeks really shit by drowning myself in negativity over something of minimal relevance to…anything. It feels good to type that out, to realize how many people I’ve alienated and how utterly in shambles I’ve been over something that really doesn’t matter. I’m not reading a self-help book, so don’t bother suggesting one to me (MOTHER), and also if you need a book for self-help, you’re not really helping yourself, CHEATER. Anyway, I help myself all the time. Two, sometimes even four times a day!

I just said to a dear friend who is similarly dealing with inappropriately proportioned reality: isn’t it terrible how we can know something to be true, 1000% true, in our minds, but our <3’s are so slow on the uptake? It is a cheesy thing, this thing I said, but it is true. It is like a sharp Cheddar, as that is a cheese that is true to itself. Yesterday, I would have told you that even though I have a good life, I no longer had any trust or faith in people on the whole. Whatsoever. Today, I will tell you that’s bullshit, and that’s an ungracious and horrendous thing to say. If anything, the recent past has taught me how remarkably kind and patient people can be. I am extremely fortunate to be surrounded by so many spectacular family members, friends, and acquaintances, and I am so sorry to all of you that I’ve been unloading on, whether verbally or by crying or maybe a bit of both. I’m waking up, and obviously I’m ok. I’ve been OK all of this time. I’m not fucking crazy, either, Christ. I’m odd and eccentric and silly and passionate, but “crazy”, I think maybe not so much. In my mind, crazy is sublimating one’s emotions or hurting oneself physically. Am I perhaps a bit too expressive? For sure, totally. But I wouldn’t be rollin’ with such a rad crew and such LEGENDS for parents if I was this horrible disaster of a human being. In sum:

THANK YOU YOU GUYZ, REALLY. IT’S DONE, sure I’m sad still, but mostly sad at myself for being such a goose. I am now approaching things with positivity. My loose goose has revealed to me not how sociopathic humanity has become, but the huge capacity for yum-ness within folks. I’m now trying to infuse my life with positivity. I’ll still be cynical, that’s jus’ me, but I need not view everything as a vessel for emptiness. Hell, even my soul isn’t empty*! Anyway, I’m going to start going about my days purposefully,  keeping track of my exercise, and setting an alarm to take my meds at the same time every day (I know that it is really bad that I don’t already do this, but I’m ADMITTING IT, at least! AWARENESS BRO).

I think this month has just been one full of flux. I moved into a GREAT new apartment with a TERRIFIC new roommate, my stellar friend Danielle, but despite it’s greatness moves are still physically and mentally exhausting. I’m so excited to settle down into boring, to be honest. Even if it’s low on chemicals and bone-free. I’m not even kidding. Remind me that I said this in two weeks when I’m a big ball of ennui. I want to kick ass at my exams and then celebrate my youth and my poverty and be so goddamned good looking.

I’m come on come on feelin it like M.M. right now

Take-aways for all of us:

1. Thank you.
2. Be happy
3. Stay hydrated
4. Masturbate a lot, but not so much that it impedes on any other aspect of your life, but masturbate a lot

I SAID GOOD DAY!

* this would be true if I had a soul, obviously.

Pained and gained

I saw Pain & Gain last night and it was way too long but it was still everything that it should have been

Deeply, deeply stupid

Dwayne darock Johnson is legit a tight actor, esp. when he smiles. His teeth are divine.

Even though the Rock and Marky Mark and Anthony Mackey are the “handsome ones” I was really overwhelmed by Ed Harris.

He’s a stonecold fox for someone that could be my dad

Or my dad’s dad

I started practicing Reiki. I like it but I don’t think I’m feeling it the right way. Not yet. I believe it but I think I’m making up the glittery particles and light aura and loving energy, I don’t think I’m in tune with the real reiki yet. I don’t feel any of the “loving energy vibrations” that I’m supposed to.

Here’s a clip from Pain and Gain. On Youtube it says it’s not from Pain and Gain but it looks exactly the same to me

 

 

The Jerk

I cannot stop playing the new Facebook game based on Game of Thrones. It is simultaneously the most fun and most inane thing I have ever been a part of. It’s totally not like Farmville. Basically, you’re put on quests that are essentially just getting back to your computer on time and you expand your estate and gain advisers and Sworn Swords and it’s totally not like Farmville. It is though, a bit. I don’t know why NO ONE ELSE is playing it, especially considering how many invitations I sent out. Thanks for nothing, guys. I thought you would have valued the opportunity to play the game of thrones with me. Perhaps you were thinking wisely, as you knew that I am bound to win and you would have ended up dead. Fair enough.

I just had to stop typing because I couldn’t bear to be away from that game for 120 seconds. I think I know who invented Facebook games. No proof, but I’m jus’ sayin’

As of late, and as of always, I can’t stop using my supposed merit as a piece of evidence as to why I should get what I want in certain situations. I’m going to remain ambiguous, so if you have any desire to follow this, put down your drugs. In spite of the list that will follow this paragraph, I don’t think I’m all that, much less a bag of chips, girlfriend! However, I just cannot stop with the “But I’m so much ______ !” and it’s ludicrous. It is so silly and makes me look horrendous, yet I can’t stop. I can’t stop because I believe it, in a lot of cases. How can one be kind of meh on self-image and simultaneously feel like the Best Thing That’s Ever Happened? Things that I have considered, in the recent past, as setting me above others:

• My youth
• My old age
• My pale skin
• My intelligence
• My humor
• My modesty
• Being from New York
• Being from Queens, in particular
• Having “world experience”
• Having undergone thorough analysis by a number of professionals
• My exquisite taste
• My impeccable ear
• The fact that I’m cooler (i.e. “But I don’t get it, I mean, I’m so much cooler, srsly you guys”)
• Being a “chosen one” THANKS FOR THAT MAN UPSTRS, doesn’t seem like you’re choosing me for much of anything delightful lately

Today Danielle and I were discussing how The Onion apologized for calling that incredibly talented little girl from Beasts of the Southern Wild (which you must see, by the way, because holy southern beasts, Batman, was it EVER good) a c*nt. I commented on how I thought it was hilarious, and that it was silly for them to apologize for something that was clearly a joke and, if anything, only reinforced how the target was in fact an adorable little wunderkind with puppydog purses. As I sat cackling away, I said to Danielle, “Maybe I only find it so funny because I’m the c*nt”. We laughed, softly, briefly, the way you do when something is only funny because it’s true. Ho-hum.

One more thing. I was watching an episode of Graham Norton the other day and Nicki Minaj was on. I feel a strong kinship with her because she’s from Queens, although I find it somewhat unlikely that she feels a special bond with me. ANYWAY. It seems as though she is really good to her [ravenous, insane] fans, and kept saying “Remember, don’t do drugs, that’s bad!” and things like that. I think she’s just setting herself up for a scandal. If you were a celebrity, would you tell your fans to not do drugs/not have sex/wear sunscreen? FOOD FOR THOUGHT

 

 

I hate to sound like a douche, but swish swish swish

I’m proposing my theezuz tomorrow and that’s pretty outrageous. My slides aren’t completely finished, but I did take lots of time to make a list of things that I want once I defend my thesis, which won’t be for at least a month. The list is not very long but it says “Pimms cup” 4 times. I really want a surprise party but I can’t plan one for myself. I’ve never had one (THANKS FOR NOTHING MOTHER) (JUST KIDDING) (OR AM I?) but I’ve thrown loads of ’em. It’s really worth it to do nice things like that for my “friends”. I’m going to make a list of people for Stephanie and just leave it somewhere and be really disappointed when she tells me to show up somewhere and it’s just her and not a surprise party.

I’ve given so much thought to surprise parties. I already know all the things I would do, because I’ve imagined the scenario so many times. I’d walk in and put my hands over my mouth and turn around and go “AHHH” and then start cry-laughing and then say “Oh my god even XYZ is here!!” and then hug people and ask who planned it and give them a nasty look because he/she invited someone that I definitely didn’t want to be there. Then I’d wash my face and probably unbutton my pants because of the pressure and it would be so grand.

How sad.

A year ago today I was still planning on getting myself a Rick Owens leather jacket to celebrate my thesis because it was financially feasible. Today, I cannot afford beef, much less a jacket made of its casing. Much less one designed by Rick Owens. He has a naked sculpture of himself in his house and it’s really creepy-looking. I can’t afford something like that, either.

I saw Amour the other day and it was phenomenal and I never, ever want to see it again. When we left the movie and I saw a poster for it I started crying again. You sit and watch a person deteriorate and grow completely helpless for 2.5 hours. It’s not even “you’ll cry so much at the end!” It’s “you’ll cry the whole time and be so snotty and have the worst indigestion and in the morning it will look like someone socked you in both eyes”. I loved it, but with the admiration and appreciation I felt came the urge to run up to people and tell them to stop smiling because they’re going to die and it’ll be awful and the person you love the most will be hit the worst so HAVE FUN FORNICATORS

When grey matter liquifies

What’s the difference between grey and gray? Anyone know? I’d look it up, but I am BEAT you guys. My thesis proposal is really almost COMPLETE now, and I wish to crawl into a cave and watch British comedy for 2 weeks in the company of a band of roguish musical trolls. I could also go have a drink. That is a seemingly more practical solution.

Let’s talk about the Super Beyonce, because it was in-cred-i-ble. I mean, I was crying. My chest felt like someone had torn it out of my body and replaced it with a unicorn heart. You can ask, I was CRYING. Let’s discuss the finer points:

• Holy shit Beyonce is just the MOST, you know? Just TOPS, A-ONE
• I liked all the parts where there were A MILLION BEYONCES, that would be such a perfect world
• A baby came out of that body not too long ago. Um, that’s fair
• When she was walking with her knees coming up to her hips KG said: “I would like to walk like that all the time” and I tried it for a minute today, and it’s exhausting, you guys
• I said: “I really love my mom, but I wish Beyonce was my mom. I wish I was Blue Ivy”
• Leather outfits are a) completely impractical for an intense extended physical performance and b) THE ONLY VIABLE OPTION FOR AN INTENSE EXTENDED PHYSICAL PERFORMANCE. Oh my GOD
• HELLO KELLY AND MICHELLE
• I said when Kelly and Michelle came out “My entire life has been leading up to this moment” and I think at that second, I really meant it
• Kelly Rowland is literally the hottest human being on the planet, her legs go to Jupiter and back and she has the best nosejob ever performed. Note: if you are seeking rhinoplasty, ask for the “Kelly Rowland”.
• I mean, you wouldn’t even know that nose is fake, and I’m ACE at picking out nose jobs.
• Even their sweat was not beady and sweaty, but GLISTENING. Like, people rub stuff on their bodies to intentionally look like that and that’s just how they feel when it’s balmy outside. It’s like they perspire glitter and glow. WHAAAAAT

Ah, just, ah. I was so tired afterwards. It was an emotionally draining experience. I think if I went to see Beyonce for realz realz I would literally die because all of my calories would burn up in excitement and my organs would shut down. If you haven’t seen the halftime show, Youtube but get ready because they are right in what they think when they don’t think you can handle this and also, you are most assuredly NOT ready for this jelly.

In other popstar news, that stuff about Lady Gaga testifying against her former assistant is just GOLDEN, in that it could not have been written by even the most adept of comedic minds. My favorite part:

There is 20 bags and there is only one me, and I can’t sift through everything. She would only open a couple of bags, and it was very stressful for me because then again on my off days I couldn’t really have a day off because, you know, I weigh 115 pounds, and I was trying to move these huge, big luggages all by myself in the room, and I did it all the time — by the way, she was asleep until 12:00 most of the time, so I was very often waking up and moving my own luggage and doing shit by myself, and it was — it was a problem that I had.

Luggages is now the only word I will use to describe luggage. Or, for that matter, anything used to transport items from one place to another. WHO IS THIS PERSON

So, the girl sitting near me at the coffee shop has been reading a powerpoint and eating a full pint of Haagen Daaz, about which I was pretty jealous because I just started being healthy today and it’s been a really tough few hours. Anyway, now she’s on the phone with someone half-crying and saying “WHY SHOULD I LISTEN TO YOU WHEN YOU SLEPT WITH HER” and shoveling ice cream into her face and I’m not jealous of her anymore. She’s like a cartoon character cliche of a woman scorned. She is a living Cathy comic. This is strange to witness, I feel perverse

Good night, and good luck

No, but really

I do want to start this joint up again.

This is my first term with no classes and…it is still extremely stress-inducing. Now that I am finally really almost through with the writing of my thesis proposal, it is super difficult to finish it. Why is that? When we’re really almost done with something, it’s a better time to do ANYTHING ELSE. Like resume blogging on one’s stupid blog that was supposed to be a travel blog but is now just an angst machine. What is that? I couldn’t tell you.

I was telling my therapist two weeks ago that I used to complain that I couldn’t find any like-minded people here in Georgia and now that I have, I complain that they’re predominantly full of shit. Not EVERYONE, but for all of the people I enjoy they carry 2-3 friends who I enjoy but like as much as you can enjoy someone kind of trying hard but getting away with it. Which probably means I am at least partially full of shit, but I guess we all knew that already. Hold on there, partner, don’t be so fast to agree. No but seriously if I were to pick people I have nothing in common with vs. people I have a lot in common with but I have trouble taking seriously, I don’t know which is better. Maybe the latter, actually. More beer. Nicer clothes.

I’ve had a supremely difficult time sleeping in the recent past. i.e the past 6 weeks. You may be saying to yourself, “gosh Al! If you didn’t sleep for six weeks you’d be dead! I think you’re exaggerating” WELL OF COURSE I’M EXAGGERATING YOU NINNY. My sleep has just been so fleeting and of such poor quality. I would make a movie about it except in that movie, nothing would happen. There are only so many baths one can take, so many books one can read, so much stretching one can do before sleep is the only thing left. I should try that ZZZZQUIL or whatever it’s called, that new stuff from the Nyquil people. I don’t understand how it’s legal to sell a sleep aid over-the-counter like that but what do I know? OBVIOUSLY NOTHING because I haven’t yet bought all the ZZZZQUIL and started a multitrillion dollar meth lab in my kitchen

Speaking of hoarding meth…at the supermarket the other day in the “British Foods” section (which is such a joke, but let me not even get started there) they had…IRN BRU!!! zomgzomgzomg for those of you who are unfamiliar IRN BRU is this Scottish soda that outsells even Coke in Scotland and it is pure sugar and caffeine and it has this weird crappy WONDERFUL taste and it cures hangovers but it has so much sugar and caffeine that you never come down after your hangover cure you just stay up, up, up IRN BRU! Also, Anthony Bourdain loves it and as he said on his show (loose paraphrase): “this shit will rot your teeth off!” and it really will, but, let’s be serious, it’s a British drink and dental hygiene is not #1 on the agenda over there mmmmmmk? OK so anyway they had IRN BRU at Publix and I was so excited that I bought all the bottles. Literally all of the bottles, and I didn’t have a wagon because I was just running into the store to buy one thing, so I walked to the register with contorted arms so that I wouldn’t drop all of the IRN BRU. This was in order that the store see how badly EVERYONE loves IRN BRU and that it just FLIES off the shelf so they’ll keep ordering more, and I’ll keep buying it all, and they’ll have to keep supplying it. You guys should just skip taking microeconomics and read my blog instead, I’m ALL about supply and demand yo

I’ve been goofing around on tumblr lately, too, just so I have a place to save all the pictures I like on the webz, and MY GOD has tumblr changed since I was a lad. I mean, there are SO many naked chicks, but not just naked, I mean, this is stuff so graphic even I feel uncomfortable looking at some of it in the context of tumblr. I’m not crazed about censorship but my god, if you are reading this and you have/are ever going to have a child KEEP THEM AWAY FROM THE TUMBLR!!!!! ok!! And if they have access to the internet bind their legs together and hot glue their shirts onto their torsos so they don’t fulfill the supply and demand action over at tumblr

I’ll quit now, as this has been mostly incoherent for a while. Thanks for reading again, readers! All my readers! Sean is my only reader! Hey man!