Man, I am a big liar pinkie-swear-breaker to the internet. Admittedly, last night I had a bunch of wine and typed a bunch of confessional incoherency into this thing, but it was nothing worth posting.
I have been in kind of a weird place. Not a bad place, exactly, but I feel like my head isn't quite properly attached to my body and that makes it hard to form complete sentences or keep my car from running off the road. Maybe the weather.
Sometimes I feel like the giant impersonal universe knows exactly what stupid, specific thing, I, 26 year old loser-nobody, needs, and appears willing to provide it. And sometimes it gets off on being withholding. What do you need? What do you want? The homeless woman who haunted my coffee shop and her one-eyed lover just walked past my office and she's still wearing the same white windbreaker. I feel no small bit of unflattering revulsion toward her. Here's a confession: to me, nothing right now is stupider and more indulgent than writing, especially writing about this, whatever this is, but I'm also weirdly in the mood for blogging. Maybe I'll take some photos when I go home and do a photopost. I like photoposts.
Yeesh.
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