It's raining and after listening to Feel Better, new adrianne, for the second time, a second a-sides song came up afterwards. The first time around Jonathan, now plays Indiana. This is special this moment that im feeling watching the many colors ofplants ourside the big east asian window shake and shiver in the rain. I'm not too warm which almost makes me cold but maybe that's the sadness inside me. I'm going to listen to b-sides now.
Twitter is so much easier than the rest of it all. Everything, especially reading Foucault, despite his conversational tone and context, is harder than twitter. Or Texting. Texting is so good. I love making myself appear in others like a little gif.
Now I'm quite cold. Speech act baby. I am also sadder. Speech act. I give voice to him, he gives body back to me. Cold not numb, this is better than nothing, surely (hopefully). I occupy myself with ways to make me feel alive, and that doesn't feel like occupation, it feels like um like migration like a searching for a new place to give myself fire, for a new sensation to soak my body in until inevitably i am logged and must cry it out, I must cry it out but I don't so i stay seeped in a nostalgic not-newness.
Better time for us to meet: one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard. Being alive is hard, but it gets easier when i remind myself just how long I will be alive for. Not because it gets easier, but because it doesn't, and that means more solidarity within for the me that is having a hard time. I've had a rough year dad. I know chaz. I know chaz. Knowing that hard years are easy to come by, easy to pass, easy to begin, easy to end, knowing that it will happen again and again and that this isn't the last time that I will write myself into, through, and out of a hard time, all this makes me happy or content to do it again. Faith in what I remind myself.
MY FOOOD CAMMMEEEE yeah i dropped 18 dollars on postmating a dream fluff BLT and hash brown and i think it was worth it but idk yet. yeah i guess it was good. went back on twitter and lost all steam. this is not special. this moment is smushed and spread out and not sharp or poignant or special.
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