April 2022

April 30 2022

I didn't wake up especially early but it felt that way since it's a Saturday, I'm treating it as a full work day and the whole world was/is asleep. I live dead downtown you see so the air is fulled usually with traffic and church bells, and bird squawks, helicopters overtop, the selfish yelling of tourists and infants. When I went out on the porch this morning it was dead quiet. I felt as though I was in some sort of vast womb, placating null voidus.

I tried to stand on my head first thing since I read yesterday in The Dharma Bums that Kerouac learned from a sober hobo how standing on his head for three minutes every morning cured his arthritis and when Kerouac did it it cured his thrombopheboplebitis or however it said, some disease that causes the veins in your feet to swell up all puffy and big. I figured I sure got a hell lot of afflictions that could use some miracle curing and besides that's the sort of wisdom I trust. So I went outside to stand on my head in the fresh morning air but all that weight on my cranium hurt real bad, real bad, and I could barely even count to ten. So instead I went and made a pot of coffee and texted some friends back and turned on a second burner to pan-fry-reheat yesterday's pasta dinner that had been sitting out there all night long.

There are all these cures and things you're supposed to do for psychoanalytic self-knowledge and a Good Life, the new spiritual industrial complex will bring riched to men again (or maybe women, big titted thin blonde ones) in the City of Angels. In the end you just go around ady to day and you don't figure things out but some people seem to attain a certain peace beyond others. Reading Dharma Bums I am struck with a great recognition of my older brother in Japhy.

I am recognizing too that I might just be born to be a poet, in other words hang out and stuff.

I spend an hour so far studying for my social networks analytics exam. In the early morning the sky was clouded with this dense ceiling of cloud fog but it was still warm and the sun was still coming up. The way it cast visibility was entirely in rays. Does it even matter what I write about so long as I write it pretty? The truth of the matter is in the sky as much as anything.

So I ate my old crunchy pasta and slugged espresso molto forte beneath heavens of moodiness and the sun, which was already partly up before I was, kept changing angles which made everything change shape. It was, most of the time, that pale dark dream-like light in which form is quite distinguishable but also flat but also oblique. When the sun hit things just right certain planes with harsh gold came alight.

April 29 2022

I had a beautiful night last night - I went with xxxx to the drycleaning show in a weird bar by the airport - we had to take the bus for half an hour and walk for another 20 in a bushy boulevard along the highway.

Reading The Dharma Bums is making me love life again. In one way I think it epitomizes the hot Alberta boy, a rugged outdoorsman with a sensitive soul which is comforting but more I think I need to absorb the beatnik ethoes in the next phaze of my life. They don't take anything seriously. I've been taking everything too seriously.

They are studious, intellectual, and poetic on the flip-twin of drunken rioutousness ie heaven in pleasure and discipline, aren't they a bit of the same thing. It's like an early form of autofiction which encourages me to mythologize my own life which, for me, seems to be an ultimate tactic in finding its natural beauty.

And there is great beauty as an intersection of various forms of becoming. I know incredible people who lead incredible lives, really.

I was thinking about how I would describe xxxxx's apartment: layered rugs stacked over another making weird shaped creases with floor pillows, and obscenely large plants he couldn't have possibly grown himself in the time he's been in this country. After having journeyed half across the world in a cross section between two cultures who only know one another in an already past end of history, own life uprooted in many ways, adrift in the chasm of changing winds. And to cope buys audio equipment: which keeps multiplying like a parasitic disease, little technic bodies crawling over the floow and all the countertops, connected in a massive web by black rubber-rimmed wires. The potential for household interiors is spectacular here, it is a materialization of a psychological state which consumes you literally, it becomes your immediate reality which is otherwise impossible to escape.

There is nothing wrong with this, it is a simple fact of existence. There is pleasure in it, even, if you care to find it.

It's the same way I was thinking about the concert last night, watching 3 guys play great music and theen one woman with waist length hair stand there still and mostly just speak into the mic looking thoroughly freaked out. I keep overthinking the way I communicate, the way I perform. When I saw her I was reminded that the weirdest most unappealing activities look nearly mythical as long as they aree executed in a way that is distinctly feminine, and I have the good luck of this predisposition.

xoxo, gearing up for a beatnik summer.

April 28 2022

I am trying to be optimistic. This morning starts with coffee and leg warmers and my srtong round glasses that make my eyes bug the fuck out.

I think I've been negotiating the instagram thing again, None of the interactions I've been having on there really fear more valuable the wat I dreamed, even though they've been increasing like I've gotten to talk to more people and hear more opinions which is nice. But i'm wondering if I've subconsciously macgyvered some all new mastermind dopamine machine. There's so much to say and I don't know how to say it.

I recognized when I've been saying I feel lost in the folds of time I really mean that my life has been changing very much lately, speaking to my mom reminded me of the normalcy of my experiences and I'm very grateful for that. My life feels so surreal and abnormal sometimes that I reject any semblence of a role model in the mainstream under the pretense they can't possibly understand me.

There is direction to be found everywhere if I'm open to it and my life is certainly obscene, there is no word other than obscenity in its totality but it is no more obscene than anyone else's. I think I;ve been caught up lately in all the horror of all the things I've seen xx xxxx xxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxx xx x xxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxxxxx xx xxx xxx xxxx. But there are a lot of people in this world who have seen a lot of things and a lot of them are very normal. A lot are xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxx.

Right now I am looking at the last month of my undergrad for all that means and as such the last month of the set track which has so far defined my life. The 'things i am supposed to do' so to speak are coming to an end. And then the world is thrown wide open and it's left to me to inteerface with it, however I see fit, however is possible, however is available to me as yet and of course this is a great unknown. When mom reminisced on that period for herself I remembered it is a great joy and privilege to have unknowns and trepidations - not that she doesn't also still - but she said that the one I'm in right now might be the biggest.

This might be why U've been reflecting on my teenagehood so much lately, on the original unknowns and the potency of pleasure which came with their discovery. But I know now too that this is a process of impurity, like for any adult girl conceptual sex is always tinged a little with fear and sadness and drugs start looking devilish and your hangovers get worse. Which is maybe why this new brink of unbecoming is tinged with sadness: I don't want to pollute any more components of living.

Either way I've presumed now to focus on exams and graduating and trying to be proud of myself - this one isn't like a highschool grad. I've really made it through some shit.

April 27 2022

x xxxx xx xxx xxxxx xxxxx. I've been pretty sad the last few days and pretty much eternally on call with A, I'll chuck it up to the world's longest hangover. It's been storming inconsolably in the meantime: today is sunny at least, and I'm listening to the stratford 4 on the porch waiting for the coffee to boil. I'm not sure what I've done so far in my 22nd year except drink a lot of coffee in the sun and watch my life pass me by. This distance from everyone I know and ever have known has put me in the position of a spectator, it all seems very far away from me now and a bit second hand. I imagine thee elderly, who sit alone for a few years reflecting on their lives and waiting to die feel a little like this.

Morality is probably just a tactic to sooth and appease since I find myself most concerned with it on days like these where my life itself is escaping me.

What am I waiting for? xx xxxxx xxxxx xx xxxxxxxx? x xxxxxxx xx xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxx x xxxx xx xxxxxxxx.

I don't know why writing about misery or suffering elicits the greatest response in people. I'm not really so stuck on it. I qrite to get it out then move on from it. People get all worked up since they're either jealous or afraid of that fact.

I dont know. I have so much sensitivity and earnest for me that nothing will ever really be sufficient for it, except i guess the art of living. But I must admit I'm not especially good at that either.

xxxxxxxxxxx x xxxx xx xxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxx. xxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxx xxx xxxx xx xxxx xxx xxxxxxx.

I think I've just fallen into a crevice of time recently and become cocooned by it.

I think i will xxxxxxxx xxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxx and should xxxxxxx xx x xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx.

I want to swim in a lake with the friends from my childhood - I guess that means texting xxxxxxxxxx back, she seems so good and happy and I'm glad for that.

I keep looking for something that makes the rest of it worth it and I should know by now that's not how it works. I can't spend my whole life chasing a high, I'll end up x xx xxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xx xxxxxxx. xxx xx xxxx xxxx xx xx xxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxxx xx xx xxxx xxxxxxx, xxxxxxxxxxxxx, xx xxxxxx xx xxx xxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx xx.

x xxxx xx xxxxxx xx xxxxx xx xxxxxxxxx xx xx xxx xxxx xxxx xx xxxx xx xxxxxx xxxx= xx xxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxxx xxx. xxx xxx xxxxxxxx xxx x xxxxxxxx xx xxxxxx xxxxxx xx xx xxxxxxxxxxxx? xxxx xxxxxx xx xxx xxxx xxxx xxxxxxx.

xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx x xxx xxxxx xxx xxx xxxx xxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xx. x xxxxx xxxxx x xxxxxx xx xxxx. x xxxxxx x. xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxx xx xx xxxxxxx. xxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx.

April 26 2022

I am in the dredges of bureaucracy today, or democracy as the protofascists here might say or socialism the way xxxxxx would put it. It's bureaucracy, when you come right down to it, past phrasings and regurgitated propaganda, everyone I've ever met's politics is just a base and emotional disgust with bureaucracy.

I'm at the police station for my permisso di soggiorno and I've been walking back and forth between here and my apartment in the early morning pouring rain since I don't have the right forms. There's a reason the bureaucratic office is that which angers us the most greatly - when i spend my morning scuttling around a concrete maze, a rat trying to find the right papers, I am most aware how intenseley something abstract and unliving directs my life. I resent this because haven't I been taught in mainstream education that I am worth very much? Paradoxes of individualism: the human life is the most valuable thing (or at least first world citizens) except that I must submit to the matters and flows of dead capital for that life to even logistically exist.

I had the worst hangover yesterday. I got drunk but half of it was all the sugar I ate. Sugar, the worst drug that addicts you to industrial food and slowly rots you from the inside out. When i quit that I'll finally be free... except this intense policing of our food intake is a false liberation which dehumanises us, distances us from our natural desires, our predisposition to pleasure and makes us more compliant subjects. What is the answer with food then, with everything, to reject the unnatural mainstream without becoming consequently more unnatural by your own inability to relate to human beings and with your own taxonimation. obssessively, with everything that touches you?

Is an SJW just a social eating disorder, where all things are strictly good or bad and thus, as opinions, acceptable or not to consume?

It was storming all day yesterday, intense thunder and lightning which hatched my headache so bad I spent hours curled up teary eyed. There were also helicopters, which is abnormal for where I live, endless helicopters flying overhead. I couldn't figure out why but the noise was agitating. And the buzzing of machinery screaming so loud I nearly cried. I called A and complained for hours that he wasn't nearby to take care of me

April 24 2022

xxxxxx xxxx xx x xxxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xx xxxxx xxxxxxxxx x xxxxxxxxx xxxx xxx x xxx xxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx xx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxx xx xxxxxx x xxxxx xx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxx x xxxx xxx xxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx xxx xxx xxxxx xxx xx xxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxx xxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx. x xx xxxxxxxxxx x xx xxxxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxx xxxx. xxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx xxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xx, xxxx xxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxxx xxx xx xxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxx xxx xxxxx x xx xxxxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxx. x xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxx xxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xx xx xxxx, but I should not mistake it for real love or intimacy. xx xx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxx xxxx xxxx.

I'm eating continental breakfast, my train leaves at noon, it is another foggy day.

I wonder if it's possible to bleed out my internal monologue until it runs dry. Probably not. I am an expert in both being annoying and thinking I have something to say (same.)

I miss living in a little dirty apartment with all my friends and cant wait to have them around me again. xxxx xx xxx xxxx xx xxxxx x xxxx. There is a certain benefit to being alone in historic streets and when i return to the postmodern west I might do soe with a power and sureness previously unseen.

Gusts of wind kick up tree branches from beneath, no swirling dust cince the streets are too clean. A little less than a century ago I might have been a typist, or a phoneline operator, it's interesting to think of women as the ones initially chosen, en masse, to liase with the machine. I suppose the mechanical turk is that contemporaneously and what a succint example it is: the divine story of artificial intelligence really just as a faceless mass of the global lower class solving problems manually, contracted out to perform consciousness for the computer program. Now when we speak of contemporary schizophrenia it's really that. Imagine the majority of the waking hours of your life composed like that.

April 23 2022

The morning I drink coffee out the windowsill swathed in mohair and boy boxers. There is a tiny puppy and a red ferrari outside the hotel beneath me. I've been especially unproductive this weekend but I guess I should just wash my face and be okay with it. We are going on a boat tour this afternoon and will stare at all the Swiss banks which are laid out like minimalist installations, from a removed vantage point. The entire sky looks dim and misty so I guess the mountains won't much be part of it.

I'm not sure much what to say. xxxxxxx xxxx xxx xxxxxxx x xxx xxxxxx. x xxxxx xx xx xxxxxx xx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxx xx, xxx xxx xx xxxxx. xxxxxx x xxxxxxxx x xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxx xx xxxxx xxxxx xx xxxxxxxx xx xx xx. Someday I'll have no material inadequacies to wallow in but i know I'll never run out of moodiness, and I'll have to project it all on to the mist in the big empty sky. Though I suppose much of my life has been on hold lately and I'm certain to face incredible unhappiness and inconsistencies. When I go back to start my adult life so I have that to look forwards to. I miss a bit breaking things xx xxxxxx xx xx x xxxxxx xx xxxx xxxxxxxx x xxx xx xxxxx xxxxxx xx xxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xxx xx xxx xxxx xxx. x xx xxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxx xx xxxx xxx xx xx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx. And it's fun, it's like a chess game, but for girls since it's social and interpersonal.

A pigeon takes flight from a branch in the midst of the feathered and ancient tree (stretching higher than buildings and breaking the cobblestone streets). The many flaght light leaves ripple outwards, the exact same way a pond would if you threw a stone in it. It's a bit chilly.

What else can I even say? I'm in the calm before the storm I think. xxxxxx x xxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxx xxxxxxxxxx. Is it deranged to publish your journal entries? Yes but you're excusedif you fill them with aphorisms and poetyr. This is another form of female chess, of strategy. If I give just enough of what they rave maybe they will love me. There are lebvels to these things.

I want to write and I want to write fiction, even though I mostly ready theory. Fiction is the great potential to make theory real and comprehensible and to prove its truth in how you live it and feel it.

April 22 2022

I have only 10 minutes to write and might not make it through this anymore. xx xxx xxxxx xx xxxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xx xxxxxxxxxx xx xxxx xx xxx x xxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxx xx xxxx xxx xxx xxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxx xxx xxxx x xx xxx. In this world it is very difficult to convene intimacy with another, I will try to begin by warping the conservation to be less about what I do and more about what I think. There is an unavoidable and thrilling vulnerability, I have no qualms in making things about me if they really are about me and not some schematic approximation of me.

April 21 2022

Booking the train to Switzerland and reading the book of revelations this AM cuz someone online told me too. My pen is shit it's breaking down and I've got so much to do.

I need to go on walks more pften but detest their spontaneity.

x xxxx xxxxx xx xx xx xxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx. xx xxxx xx xxxxxxx. xx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxx.

xxx xxxx xxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxx x xxxxxxx xxxx xxxx x xxxxxx xxx xxx xx xxxxxxxxx xx xx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxxxx. xx xxxxxxxx xx xxxxx xxxxx xxx xxxxx xx xx. xxx xxxx xxxxxxx xxxx xx xxxx xxxxxx x xxxxxx xx xxx x xxxxxx x xxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xx xxxx xxxxxx xxxx xx xxxx. xxxxxxxxx x xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxx xxx xxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx.

THe quality of the day reminds me a bit of high school, when I worked at xxxxx with my brother and we'd drive out to the cabin on May and June weekends. Rhree hours through the mountains with no cell service, trhough the patch of stalky dead trees mom said went up in a controlled burn when she was just a ki, standing tall and ashy still but with brush, saplings, and flowers springing up beneath. The big road sign towards the hoke titled Paint Pots, cliffs and crevices, deep green coniferous and the ice white sulfur river winding parallel to the highways. When we reached the cabin community it wasempty which we weren't really used to and it was too cold to go swimming. It was still sunny and warm anough to be in shorts and the sky had a thick carpet of clouds that always looked like an encroaching storm but never quite broke and weren't exactly grey, the way they looked today. There were only three people working since the entire lake was quiet on those spring days, and the best weekends were xxxxx and us two. After work xxxx would drive me home in the truck, windows down kicking up dust blasting some melancholic rock song. He'd grill sausages and asparagus and we'd eat it quietly on the deck.

II remember the first time I got stoned was on a night like that, not the first time I smoked weed (which was xxxxxxxx's older brother) but the first time I got proper high (which was with mine. We smoked xxxxx's weed then immediately ditched him, which we didn't think was mean because he was always cooler than us but it is kinda shitty now that I think of it. We binge watched Bojack Horseman, which was new and fresh then. I was amazed I thought it was so funny and made myself a deranged icecream sunday and it felt so fun and safe to be in that living room with my big brother experience experiencing a new way of living. I miss when drugws and alcohol was a novelty and xx xxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxx x xxxxxxx xx xx.

I remember being at the cabin all summer mas a little kid in the sun at the beach but maybe two days of the time it would storm and rain and we'd all crowd into someone's house to watch movies. Or one time we went swimming wearing all our clothes.

April 20 2022

Ho fame, sto mangiando pruscietto crudo sul balcone mentro prendo il sole. I think this grammar is nightmarish and some of the words might be french. I lied too, I'm not eating yet, but I like the way the words translate 'raw ham.'

There is a breeze so light it doesn't feel like wind at all, just a loosening of the stiff environment. I need to work on my book again - i think I just need to force it, I've been forcing these pages and they're turning out okay and i need to do that second job application and finish my article and square out everything with graduating. What I really want to do is sit in the dark and keep working on Python and math, I learned imaginary numbers this morning and the name turns out decieving, they're actually quite easy and no more unreal than everything else we operate with.

It reminds me when A was here he brought up a fascination with a Milan as a living point of connection between the cults of fascism and consumerism. I countered how fundamentally different the ideological distributions of power were within these systems. They both presuppose a necessary disciplining of the human being for the ideal society but fascism claims that it should be administered centrally through the state while capitalism asks us to play it out on the internal mind body level. I agreed that Milan thrived through both of these natural properties and while the culture might have changed, who am i to know, the municipal infrastructure remained largely the same. It's curious how two vastly different ideological positions could come to the same conclusions for the complexity of their execution. The relationship between Real and Imaginary numbers I think is also like that. I mused, in this conversation too, if the similarities mostly had to do with a lack of imagination.

When it comes down to it radicalism is a fantasty in the purest sense of the world.

If I were to work on the book today which part would I write? xxxxxxxx xxxx xx xxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xxx xxxx xxx xxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxx xxx xxxX XXX XXXXX XXX XXXXXXX XX XXXXXXX XXX XXX XXXXX XX XXXXXXXX. xxxxxxxx xx xxxx x xxxxxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxxxx x xxxxx xx xxxx xxx xxxx x xxxx xx.

April 19 2022

 I've forgotten to take my allergy pills before I went outside today and feel nearly ill from existence. It's A's last day and while I'm sad to go I must admit I am excited to be alone and take things slow and easy, even if just for a day before I am off to Switzerland. x xx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxxxx x xxxx xxxx xx xx xx xxxx xxxx x xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xx xxx xxx xx xx xx xxxxx xxxx xx xxxxx xx xxxx xx xxxxxxx x xxx xxxxx xxxx xxx xxxxx xx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxx. xxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxxxxx xxx xxx xxxx. Thank god, lately, I've been in the mood for the technical but I hope, too, to regain a little poetry once I've gotten space and rest and I would like to work on my book anyways besides that.

x xxx xxxxxxxxx xxxx x xxxxxx xx xxxxxxxx x xxxx xxxxxxxxxx. x xx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxx.

I know it's a waste of time but I might just be happiest if A and I watched another episode of TV and I worked on the next resume before he leaves instead of going out in the sun and living in the moment. Living in the moment too much is just that, too much, I might be the world's worst candidate for European Backpacking but hey, I take things as they're handed to me, resume today and budget tomorrow babe. 

There is a singular glint of light off the gold door handle to the porch, it is very tiny but painfully bright, looking at it is nearly seeing straight into the sun and it has these glistening rainbow rays which extend out its entire radius, giving an appearend of a flesh and blood heart of the virgin, and the longer I stare the larger the radius grows, I'm not sure were I a schizophrenic whether the symbolism means of beckoning to the outdoors or if I should simply sit it untouched and observe.

There are essays circulating IG at this point about schizophrenia and the conundrum of God and they're starting to make sense, a bit, about the magic of seeing patterns of things and anyways how smart am I to have predicted for 2022 the it-boy as a 4chan sort and the it-girl some sort of class a personality disorder. There is this group of new meme pages driving this ethoes and I like them cuz it feels like a meme renaissance and the content's finally funny and interesting again but on the other hand its all cursed texts and I feel insane if I look at them too long. Yes, yes, I do think insanity is a contagion and in this case the secondary appropriation of 4chan culture which has already weathered such a brutal place, as perceived by outsiders and horny femmes more often than not seems a sort of erosion of the psyche or maybe just the downstream of digital allure to its most base and incomprehensible parts evermore so in the mainsteam, and a warped reinterpretation to accomodate the platform capitalist system. I'm not sure enough to comment yet but the work feels more and more essential.

April 18 2022

One of the last days with a lover is always steeped with poetry. I've already described this apartment so many ways that I'm at a loss for new ones. If anything, it's a spring day. I've been stuck in unbearable allergies and beautiful pink and lilac flowers are blooming on the trees around the city and some days the heat makes me grumpy. I can't say I've made too much of my days in Milan and I'll probably think the same of my time on earth when that is over too. This is not an especially depressive sentence. I've enjoyed my time and obtained a great form of pleasure and comfort in this period that I was lacking in my life. I don't feel as young as I used too but these things are okay and I'm still young, relatively. Maybe one of the goods of being 20 something is like yesterday you can still get shit faced and messy at noon but end the day with a clean apartment and a good warm dinner. A very nice thing indeed.

I worked on HTML last night and I tried to work on Python but I couldn't figure out how to run the file on mac. It was a little frustrating but I didn't get too upset about it. x xxxxx xxxx x xxxx xxxxx xx. x xxxxx xxxx x xxx xx xxxxxxx xxxxx xx xx xxxxxxxxxx. x xxxx xxx xxxx xx x xx xxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxx xxx x xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xx xxxx xxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxx x xxxxxxx.

x xxx xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxxxx xx xxxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxx xxx xxx x xxxxx xxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xx xx xxx xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxx. xx xx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xx xxxx xxxxxxx xxx. After watching one episode of tv we turned it off and did other things xxxxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxxx x xx xxxxx xxxxx xx xx xxx. xxxxx xx xxxxx xxxx xx xxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxx xxx xxxxxx/

x xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx xx xxxx xxxxx.

I wore a beautiful outfit to church yesterday - black and white polka dot skirt and my short sleeved white button upwith the lace collar, my hand knit mohair sweater in beautiful shades of mint and dustry grey, semisheer black tights, my patent ballet flats and two turquoise ribbons tied around my ankles. Hair falling in its loose natural curls/

Today is a Monday and I will work on stitching things back together. I hope to get through some job applications and the article I promised xxxxxx and figure out the initial python stuff and maybe even work on my italian a little so that I can be done with all of it and focus on finals and my book and travelling. A bought me beautiful easter flowers yesterday: multicoloured roses with baby's breath

April 17 2022

I realized I have encountered a nearly shocking form of peace in recent days. Of purity. We went to church for Easter today and I was still mostly bored and confused and unwilling to go up for communion, but I wasn't upset by it this time and I realised that urgency is a rather unrealistic thing. The present moment is indeed totalizing but also rather mundane and what I do matters very little in the short term as long as I show up. There is an antiques market in the courtyard which we've been wandering around since. I bought two hand drawn postcards - an orchestra conductor and a tennis player - which have a beautiful classic effervescence to them, and which I can imagine hanging together frames in the stately yet quirky collegiate house or apartment I will someday soon live in. I underdressed so am wearing his blazer and sit now on a concrete cylindrical street jut in the sun waiting for him to finish perusing.

Since writing my first page we have now gone for lunch, gotten very drunk, xxxxxx xx x xxxxx xxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxx x xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xx xxxx xx xxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxx, xxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx, xxxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xx xxx xxxx xx xxxxx xxxx, xxxxxx, x xxxxxxx xx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxxx, xx xxx xxx xxxxxx xxxx xx xxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxx xxx xxxxxx xxx xxx x xxx. xx xx xxxxx xxxxxxxx xxx x xx xxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxx xxx xxx xx xxx xxx.

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April 15 2022

Good Morning. I wake up nude to another day and in this I feel the constant circle of death and rebirth. Don't they call in French the orgasm the mini death? Fremch used to be what English is now. I don't know how to find what I should say today. I'm not sure what I think. I'm daydreaming of mundanity - a salaried job and mixed pattern bedsheets. I'm daydreaming of reacind French and doing math and giving birth and all these important things.

Yesterday was Good Friday and x xxx xxx xxx xxx xxxxx xxxx xx xxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxx I sobbed and then played with my fidget spinner and went out and got on my knees and prayed to God, like a true zoomer would, all these things.

xx xxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx xx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xx xxxx xxxx. xxxxxx xx xxx xxxxx.

Return to the body as a biblical prediliction, as a sacrament.

I'm finally understanding when they speak of Christ as the body. Like in biology, mushrooms are unclear whether they're an organism or a species, they all share an invisible mycellum (idk if that's the right word) of floatng spores which makes the boundaries of one indistinguishable fropm another. That's Christ, I guess, the collective body. The passage I prayed with, I don't remember exactly, but it was something about how christ bears all suffering but that it is also his unbecoming. This seems to fit very closely to the conceptions of corporeality. I didn't explain it well then to A and I can only explain it worse now since I am tired, with an unwoken brain and the thoughts are old and I'm probable wrong, or uninformed anyways, since I'm new to theology.

There is sonmething a big magical about approaching these texts for the first time as an adult.

I thinkt's just like that the beginning is also the end and thus it's neither of those things. Like disease only exists because the design of the body preconditioned it and it is thus not really antagonistic. Both suffering and pleasure, I guess, come from this one simple form which is innocent and eternal and true.

I felt very strangely sitting on the roof with A, drinking a beer in the hot afternoon yesterday. I tried to explain it. "When you paint," I said, "you're not supposed to use plack from a tube coz it'll look unnatural. You're supposed to mix all the colours on the palette and what turns out is still definitely black but there's all these other layers of complexity in it that don't make a difference in whether it's black or not but with this palette you have to work with it wouldn't be the exact right black without it."

"I think I get it," he said. "xxx xxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx."

I have been noticing this day especially how intensely I feel everything. Like physically, my everyday is blindingly bright and brezes are skincrawling and sounds are blissful or violent, the way people describe the way drugs feel, we both agreed that we could never do drugs the way our friends do, since such a small amount is so entirely overwhelming and it takes days just to feel real, to feel connected to the world again. If I did that every weekend I'd have a psychotic break.

"What I'm trying to say," I said on terracotta orange, "Is that this right here is a colour."

Seeing him again it's as if no time has elapsed.

April 15 2022

It's his first morning here and I'm making coffee, or about to be, feeling, I think a little lost as to what to do while he sleeps.

I'm feeling a bit unsure of myself so I might just say I plan to not post today's pages.

xx xxxxxxxx, xx xxxx xxxx x xxxxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxx x xxx xxx xxx xx xxx xxx, xxxxxxx, xxxxxxx xxxx xx xxx xxxxxxx xxx, xxxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxxxxx.

xx xx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxx xxxx xx xxxx xxx xxxx xxxxxx xx xxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx. xxx xxxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxx, xxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxx.

x xx xxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxxx xx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxxx (x xxxx xx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xx xx xxxxxxx, xxxxx x xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx). xxx xxxxx xxx xxxxxxx, xx xxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxx xxxx xx xxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxx xx xxx xxxx xxxxx xxxx xx xxxx xxx xxx x xxxxxx xxx xxxx x xxxxxx xxx xxx xxxx xxxxxxxx xxx xx xxxxxxx xxxx xx xxx xxx xx xx x xxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxx xxx xxxx xxx xxxxx xx xxx xxxxx.

x xxxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxx xx xx xxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xx xxxxxxx, xxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxx. I felt my body with the consistency in which a fat, overhot dog pants against the pavement, when a human hand falls against their barrel chest to find it solid, hollow, soft, and hard without being contradictory.

Or if you bought the viral peach babies slime online and just shook the container right upside down without a lid, letting it thud out, letting it thwack against the table and then slowly jiggle from its harshly defined lime green cylindricism into a sparkling puddle.

When we sat on the roof the cathedral was lit up of course and the windows sparkling and all the rooftops made their pretty silhouettes against the blue. He was amazed by it, which reminded me that this was all new to me too once. I am familiar, now, with lamenting from this particular rooftop.

xx xxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx x xxxxxx xxx xxx xxxx xx xxx xxxxxx xx xxx xxx xxxxxxxxxxxx. x xxxxx xx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxx xxx xx xxx xxxx xxxx xxxxx xx xxx xxxxxxx xxxxx. x xxxxxx xxxx xxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx xxx xxx, xxxxxx xxxx xx xxxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxx xx.

x xxxx xxxx xxxxx xxx x xx. xx xxxx xx xxx xxxx x xxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx xxxxxxxx xx xxx xxx xxxx xxxx xx. xxx x xxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xx xxxx xxxx xx xxx xxxxxxxxxxx xx xx, xxxx xx x xxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxx x xxxx xx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xx,

xx xxxx x xxxxx xxx xxxx xxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxx,

Today is Good Friday 'which symbolizes the day of Christ's sacrifice, death, torture, all for the love of humanity' There are lessons to be learned from this certainly. The greatest act of love is to be a victim gracefully. I seek this as the height of being.

'She thinks herself a martyr.'

April 14 2022

I take today in the reign of fearful cowardice. It's the sort of hot, opaque day where your shadow sits directly beneath you. I'm sitting on the street by my apartment, the one with the italian university. There is a dark skinned girl in a leather jacket with long ponytailed box braids in magenta and blonde and peony. I have been listening to an album lately that might be described as harpsichord-y if I only knew what that sound means. I'm sitting on the curb by a garbage bin and now comes a breze that lifts my skirt gently, flutters the faux-gold curls which have dried beautifully. I see people here every other week, graduating, drinking champagne in groups with friends and family. They wear laurel crowns made of fresh flowers and rich purple veils and shoot pink and turquoise confetti out of little paper canns with plastic mechanisms. It makes an epidural carpet on cobblestones which keeps being scraped. xx xxx xxxx xx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxx xx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxx x xxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxxx. I will never know enough, enough, enough, to capture all things external to me.

I read theory when I woke up which is a terrible way to start your day. I should read poetry instead. It (Caliban and the Witch) said magic was delegitamized in the disciplining of the body which accompanied primitive accumulation (is that the right term?) The practicing of magic, it said, is that which assumes some will in the connectivity of the internal microcosm to the external macrocosm. For labour to be measured (and subsequently commodified) time had to be established as a quantifiable regularity. How could a body's work-power be sold if people could be in two places at once, become invisible, lose presence etcetera etcetera. And so we lost this knowledge and ceased to explore its practicings.

Not that I think such things are literally possible but my world has certainly become one of the symbolic + imaginary. I think the worst take is that advanced or spiritual beings 'have no need for the emotions that plague humans.' Fae and faeries. Maybe they would be less vulnerable to the inconsistencies of mundanity, but there comes a point in which a feeling is not a feeling but a great source of understanding and certainty. A truly wide and otherworldly creature, in my opinion, would think nothing and feel everything.

That is the magic, historically speaking.

I listened to CC on a podcast this morning too. She really does represent all things I am ashamed and fearful of deep inside me, she said 'I only have one big book to write, and it might take me 6 years, and I'm going to isolate and begin this book no, it will be hard and long but I know I have it in me.' They asked if she had written in the month since she left New York and she had nothing.

I am horribly afraid of our similarities, I guess I can try / not try. I must know that I am a vessel and open it to everything.

The people look beautiful in their dresses, collared shirts, and penal vapes.

April 13 2022

I missed yesterday and, what's more, was entirely desolate, perpetually indoors, and unable to settle on one thing, restlessly pacing from activity to activity nd never staying long enough to really experience anything. I was afraid today might harken the same but x xx xx, xx xxxxx xxx xxxx xxxx xxxxxx, xxx I am out of the house. Drinking cafe doppio on campus, it is stinking hot and I feel now some strange tropical connotations to Milan that are entirely foreign to me. When I consider this city I think in the industrial, even though that isn't really what my experience has been but I figured I've just been sticking in centrale (say "chen-tra-lay" dirty anglos). I think historical manufacturing and centuries of smoke stacks.

Writing is hard. Three pages is hard right now. I can't commit to anything presently and that's a problem since I can't commit to anything... oh my god see how easily my train of thought is lost. I need another coffee but I don't think I have cash and di carta is a hassle.

ho avuto un altro. 4 espressos today baby. Honestly that's not even bad. The consumption's been frighteningly high since I've been here, I might just jumpstart that irrgular beat inside of me and have a heartattack. This morning I was thinking about xxxx xxx xxx xxxx x xxxx xx xxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxx x xxxxx xxx xxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxx xxx xx xxx xxxxx xxxxx xx xxx xxxx xxxxx xx xxxxx xx xx. But I don't want to get into all that right now, especially with this pencil softening into illegible stubbiness.

I love these outdoor coffee bars but sometimes the real world feels so surreal. Like the sunshine and light breeze and all the groups of people chatting in Italian and the mucus dripping down the back of my throat from seasonal allergies are all some sort of vast, artificially constructed multimedia experimental art piece designed to invoke a sense of bewilderment and terror in me. The internet is definitely some sort of vast, artificially constructed multimedia experimental art piece designed to invoke a ense of bewilderment and terror in me. Of course all these things result in not only these things, I just have to change how I see.

The wind has blown a chartreuse flowerbud into my cup of black coffee.

April 11 2022

I woke up this morning to an iPhone alarm in the sunshine. I feel fatigued to my molecular glands, in arm flab sinew and I'm struggling to make sense of anything. Time keeps passing and passing until its gone. The 80s seems so long ago

There's a certain impossibility in grasping the aesthetic of the present since it all becomes perfectly normal. It becomes noticeable in decades past, and my teenagehood is finally that. I should have asked my mom when we were still together ifit ever becomes less melancholy, seeing trends you love turn vintage. It's not so much that they're less popular, I've never cared much about that, it's watching the contextual meaning slow bleed out of everything that makes you. Without a language I am only a body and language seems to always change before it belongs to me.

x xxxx xxxx xx xx xxxxxx xxx x xxxxx xxxx xxx xxxxxx x xxxxxxxx.

You see, my pen is broken and pencil's a stub already.

x xxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxxxxx xx xxxx xxx xx. xx xxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx.

xx xx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx xx xxxx xxx xxxx xxxxxx xxx xx xx xxx xxxxx xxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxx xx xxxx xx. That feels so long ago. That person (not him, me) feels connected at best only abstractly.

x xx xx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xx xxxxxx xxx xxxxx xxx xxx xxxxx.

xx xxxx xxx xxxx xxxxx / xx xxxx xxx xxxx xxxxx

It might seem a strange thing to say but I feel very deeply that I have a midwestern soul. Even in terms of lineage: before my ancestors came to where we are now they lived in the margins of Australia, travelling servants of the East India Company officials, the organisers of grand smuggling rings. If my soul dissolved into purity the shape it would take is strip malls, nothing going on, beauty in the shitty. God I love cities with nothing going on. Organised culture depresses me.

x xxxxxx xxxx xxxxx xxx x xxxx xxxx xxx. In my bedroom dust particles float like stars. I don't know how to start writing again, I don't know how to give things meaning. I've been thinking of sketching a series of men sobbing in the arms of stone cold women or wrestlers or welders.

xxxxx x xxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxx xx xx xxx xxxxxxxx xxxxx. I am mostly untethered, witnessing reality through an interior veil. I can fuck and pray to god (I've done neither much lately) and call my parents and try to record everything.

So I'll try this morning: I am hungry and dehydrated and hairier than I would like. I am awake, relatively speaking. The window is open and the sun is very warm. Small shadowed stripes are cast by the window grates. The bedsheets are pale and lineny. I've made a mess of my things. Can't decide whether to buy chips for breakfast or something real to eat.

April 10 2022

Woke up feelin like a douchebag. Hunnid hunnid fire tongue out drip (emoji). Discourse these days seems to be an endless stream of criticism lacking suggestion and I for one am sick of it.

I've been on the train now feeling alternately nauseous and xxxxx xx xxxx. I'm not in the mood to write. I want to do math and code. I wish I could focus on any one thing for even a month. My earphones are broken so I can't put them in and drown out everything else. I want to write a Caroline Calloway history masterdoc.

If I am in such a mood my best bet must be to speak of the technical instead of the typical poetic. I read excerpts off the pure math discord of the theorectical teaching of mathematics, how math constructs itself as inarguable by the imposition of the teacher's will onto the student. There were a bunch of consecutive arguments that I didn't understand but, then, I know that I am operating at a rather elementary level.

I was considering the great difference between the theoretical and applied mathematician, the former understanding subjectivity with great complexity and the latter most often as the horseman of the objective. The point the article was trying to make, I think, was less a question of the structures of education and moreso one of fundamental form. Does the very structures of mathematical analysis necessarily impose a false objectivity?

On the train now I've stolen someone else's window seat and he keeps looking over my shoulder for the rushing landscape and I feel a bit bad.

The math theorists argue even on the validity of 2+2=4 and it comes down to, like everything, the question of linguistics and the fallibility of representation. I didn't read the argument against 2+2=4. But I can say this, all fundamental assumptions of physics and mathematics are understood to break down at certain scales. No laws are limitless. But, for the sake of performing complex alterations the assumption of universality is made. The fundamental ideology of math is claiming Truth (the holy sort) where there is none. (Transcription note: I remember that this is defined in this discipline as an 'axiom'). These conclusions would seem very simple to anyone who even slightly studies math but, like I said, I'm new to it.

At the beginning of my book on Real Analysis it said 'we consider the universe to be only those numbers which we are interested in.'

Shit I was going to study but I think that my apple pencil is dead. Maybe I'll code for a bit as it charges.

BONUS NOTES FROM THE AFTERNOON:

x xxxx xxxxxx xx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx. xx xxxxxx xxxxx xx xxxxx xx xx. xxx xx xxxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxx xxxx xx xxxxxx xxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxx xx xxxxx xxx xxx. xxxx xxx xxxxxx xxxxxx x xxx. xxx xxx xxx xxxx xx xxxxxx, xxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx, xxx xxxx xxxx xxxx xxx xxxx x xxxxxx xxx xxxx. xxx xxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx. xxx xxxx xx xxxxx, xx xxxxxxxxxx, xx xxxxxx xxxxxxxx.

xx x x xxxxx xx xxxxxxxx xxxxx? xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx?

All words are technical and all technicalities are meaningless

xxxxxxx xx xxx xxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx x xxx xxx xxxxx xxxx xxx xxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxx.

xx xxx xxxx xx xxx xx xxx, xx xxxxx xxx xxxxxx xx x xxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx, xxxxx x xxxxxxxxx xx xxx xxx xxx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxxxxxxx. xxx x xxx xxxxxxxxxx xx xxxx xx xx xxxxx xxxx xxx xxx x xxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxx. xxxxx xxx xxxx xxx xx xx xx xxxx x xxxx xx.

xxx xx xxxxxxxxx xxx xxx xx xxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxxx xx xxxx xxxx. xx xxxxxx, xxx xxx x xxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxx, xxx xxx xxx xxx xxxxxx, xxx xxxxxx xx xxx.

I'm wearing a wifebeater and baggy pants feeling like a boy (person).

xxx xxxx xx xxx xxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxxx xx xxx xxxx x xxx xxx xxxx xx xx xx xxxx xxxxx xxxx xxxx xxx xxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx. xx xxxxx xx xxx xxxxxx. xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxx. xxxx xxxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx?

xxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx xx xxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx xx xxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx

I am bleach blonde and warm blooded with insanity. Perhaps my ancestors weakened capacity is that they are all now communing with me.

Time is an assumption! Math shows us this.

x xxxx xxxcx xxxx xx xx xxxx xxxxxx. x xxxx xx xx xxxx xxxx xxx xx xxxxxx xxxx xx. x xxxxxxxxx xxxx xxx xxxx xxxx xx xxxxxx xx xxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxx xxxxxx.

I would like now to thank god for giving me the brain and body which I have recieved for I witness so much magic and beauty it is unbelievable to think

April 9 2022

Good morning, good morning. Today on the coast fog is blending the cliffs into the sea, not in any sort of tendrilled way as might be the custom in this writing but as shapeless condensation, nothing more nothing less. I feel similarly wallowy. The stale air in this hotel which costs far too much for what it is is making me sick. That or the winding roads or the fresh sea air or xx xxxxxx or any other thing. It doesn't matter what's really doing it. I want to leave today for this reason but x xxxx xxxxx xxx xxxxx xx xx xxx x xxxx xxx xxxxxxx x xxx xxx xx xxxxxx, one more day on a damp and dirty beach is not the worst thing. Maybe, now, the sun seems to be breaking through some part of the sky. The coffee is terrible and I am starving from carb deprivation.

I was up last night writing an insane, 1500 word, useless meandoring email to that prof whom I promptly ghosted when she tried to mentor me. Maybe she will hate it. It is probably offensive to be a terrible communicator and essentially ignore someone who is trying to help you for months and then think monologuing about yourself in her face is any sort of apology. Selfish ass. Nonetheless it felt good to engage in a bit of prosaic dribble, especially one so inconsequential.

I forgot to grab my bedsheets when mom closed her door in the hotel so I had to sleep on the raw foldout bed. It had a terrycloth cover which looked clean enough but did not feel soft and the idea of it was gross.

I cannot say my writing is especially worth anything, though I know it is better than the average person's. But I gain no sense of satisfaction from any completed work, the way I sometimes might with a painting or a real job. A completed piece of writing doesn't seem to do anything, at least for me, since I came up with all the thoughts to begin with and am introduced to nothing new. I've noticed too that I do not have too much interest in fiction and read very little of it compared to the other forms I engage with. I am so constantly finnicky and insecure about my finished works since they always seem entirely inadequate with regards to what I set out to achieve. It is a thankless task I have embarked on that I think I may never stop now that the wheels are spinning since writing seems to be the only time I feel really at peace. Brain go brrrrrrrrr quietly. Now the sunshine from the ocean is flooding the room in its pale invisible way, I've agreed with mom to stay another day, so. The problem is that the second my pen lifts from the page it ceases to be writing and becomes written. Then I am forced to see that I have nothing new to say and even my misery is cheap. I don't know. I don't know why anyone would want to read that (I say this not in a specifically personal self piteous way but just like, generally).

Anyways writing might be the purpose of my life which is a stupid thing to say since it doesn't take much to keep a diary. And it is a thankless thing. I know this novel which I commit myself to now entirely will do nothing but terrorize me upon its publishing.

April 8 2022

I woke up today earthshakingly sad. Which is ironic, I suppose, since it might be our only beautiful day on the coast, warm enough to sit out for breakfast on the white tableclothed terrace with spremuta and an amazing turquoise ocean. I'm too tired and sad to really write anything beautiful right now.

x xxxxxx xx xxx xxx xxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx, xx xxx xxxxxxx xxx xxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxx xxxx. xxx xx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxx xxxx xx xxxxx xxx xxx xxx xxxx xx xxx xxx xx xxx xxx xx xxxxxxx xx xx. xxx xxxxxxxxx xxx xx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxx xx xxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxx xxxx. xxx x xx xxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxx xxxx xxxx xxx xxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xx x. xxx xxxx xx xxxx xxxx xx xxxxxx xx xxxx xx xxxxxx xx xxx xx xxxx xxxx xxxxxx xxx xxx xxxx xxxx xxx.

x xxxx xxxx x xxxxx xxxxxxx. x xxxx xxxxxx xx xxxx xxxxx xx xxxxxxxx xxxxx xxxx x xx xxxxxxx xx xxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxx x xxxx xx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xx xxxx. x xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxx xxx xxxxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxx xxx xxxx xxxx. xx xxxxxx xx xxxxx.

xxx xxxx xxxxxxx xxxx xxx xxxxxx x xx xxx xxx xxxx x xxxx xx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx xxxxx xxxxx. xxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xx xx xxxxxxx xx xx x xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx! x xx xxxx xxxxxxxx! x xxxx xxxxx xxx xxxxxxxxxxx x xx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx, xxxx xxxx x xxx xxxx x xxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx. x xx xxxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xx xxxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxx xx xxxxxx xx xxxxxxx xxx xx xx xxx xxxx xxxxxxx. x xx xxx xx xxxxxxx xxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx xxx x xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxxx xx xx xxxx xxxx xx xxxx. x xx xxx xx xxxxxx xxxx x xxx xxxxxxxxxxx xx xxx xx xxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xx xxx xxxxxxx, x xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx x xx xxx xxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xx xxxx xxx xxx xxxx xx xx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxxx, xxxxx x xxxx xx xxxx xxxxx xxx. xxxx xxxx xx xxxxxx xx xxxxx xx x xxxxxxxx xxxx xxxx?

x xxxx xxx xxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxx xxxx xx x xxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xx xxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx. xxxx xx xxxxxxx xx xxxxxx. xxx x xxxxxxx xxxx x xxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx x xxx xxxx xx xxx xxxxx xxxxxxxxxxx xxx x xxxx xx xxx xxxx xxxx xxxx xx xxx xxxxxx xxxx xx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx. xxx xxxx xx xxx, x xxxxxxx, xxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xx xxxx.

xxx xxxxxxx xxxx xxxx xxxxx xxxxx xx xxxxx xx xx xx xxxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxxxx xx xxxxx xxxxxx xx xxxx xx xxxx xx xxxxxxxx, xx xxxx xxxxx.

xx xxxxxx xxxx x xxxx xxxxxxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxxx xx x xxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx. xxx xx xxxx xxxx xxx xx xx xxxx. xx xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xx xxxx xx xx xxxxxxxxx xxx xxxxx.

x xxxx xxx xx xxx xxxxxx: xxxx xx xxx x xxxx xxxxxx xx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxx x xxxx xxxxxxxx xx xxxx xxx xx xxxx xxxxx. x xxxxx xxxxxx. x xxxx xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxx xx xxxxx xx xxx xxxxxxxxxxxx. I don't know. I don't really feel any better now but whatever.

April 7 2022

I was tossing and turning last night. When we got to the hotel the room was especially cold, probably since we decided to travel to the world's ultinate summer location on a lonely cold and rainy week of twenty first century spring. The pollution is so bad across this entire country I haven't been able to stop sneezing. I thought my sore throat was the fact that I've been smoking a little but I think it's actually that. I inhaled way more carcinogens second hand in the love-glow of the old place than I do now anyways. There's something about that, when we are alone we may be harsher to ourselves and still it does not compare with the debilitation of really living. It's my dad's 55th birthday today, xxx xxxx xxx xxxxxxxx xxx xxxxx xxxx xxx xxx xxxx xxxx xxxx xxx xxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxx xx xxx. (xxx xxxxx xxx xxx xxxxxx xxxx, x xxx). xxxxx xxxx xxxxx xx. I would probably feel bad if I was alone on my 55th birthday. I'll call him I guess. The most meaningful way you can live your life these days is to call people sometimes and honestly I'm not very good at that. A lot of relationships have burned up or disintegrated because of my achilles heel of digi communications. I'm great at Posting but it's a whole different thing. Talking at people I don't know is easy. Performing is easy because I'm smarter than everyone and know exactly what they want to see. Anyways, xxxx xx xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxx xx xxxxxxx xxx, I guess because they don't believe in god. Anyways, when we got to the hotel room we cranked the heat all the way up and I couldn't figure out how to turn it off so I spent the whole night drifting in and out of sleep, sweating buckets like a pig in heat.

I dreamt last night that my boyfriend and I broke up for a day because he was still into his ex but then he spent the time fucking her and being her man and decided he really preffered me. I don't care to psychoanalyze that one.

There's that cliche that healing your brain lessens your artistry and I suppose it's a cliche for a reason. Making art is self centered and narcissistic and pathetic and it will never not be. But living properly is all those things too I guess. If i've learned anything it's that sometimes you need to let yourself be messy. But that's stupid and terrible advice really.

I haven't read the bible in a while and I think I should. I should also set up my website, so I have something that belongs to me. Of course those both take a lot of work and I'm busy surviving xx xxxxxx and my crumbling sociology. My seasonal allergies have been especially bad and I'm considering it god rightfully punishing me for these things.

April 6 2022

I missed yesterday. Honestly It's been hard. xxx xxxx xxxx xx xxxxxxx, xxx xxxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xxx xxxx.

Mom is reading my short story which is nice. I've been getting annoyed/frustrated/insecure, that's the real word, since I sent it to 4-5 people this week, more than any amount I've ever sent it to, and hear nothing back. It would be better if I knew they simply hadn't read it yet. The hard thing is what if they have read it and hate it, or not just hate it - I'm not scared of people thinking I'm talentless, I mean of course I am, but I've already entertained that potential from a very young age to a very great extent. My concern is that they are somehow offended, not in a woke SJW way, but on a base level. The way the writings of Josh Citarella offend me. As if they think what I'm doing is entirely wrong and self serving. Which it is and it isn't.

The ultimate reason that I write is to record and transmit the great complexities of a truth of my life. Which maybe is narcissistic? And I do desire to be better known as a great driving impulse, and to make a career, or a practice of this. There is no way, I suppose, to be an artist and a good person. Especially not a writer, since you whore out the psyches of your loved onces.

I should know by now that people do not like to be seen as they really are, myself included. There is a good chance I may destroy my most important relationships by using them in this way. Except A, because he writes too, and understands, I think.

That man and I have weathered a lot. I cannot say we do it always with grace, but we sure do love eachother and are capable of a lot.

Anyways, I am certain that I am embarking on a path of utter moral sin and I do not care. I have an autisticky, overt concern with morality otherwise and take care to avoid anything I may consider as a sin in all else areas of my life.

But I do not care with this,

This part of myself I flay and castrate, offer as a dirty virginless sacrifice to the human spirit and the great march of time. I will whore out the depths of my soul and then I will repent. I do not do it without refrain or abandon since I understand the severity of my actions. I do it despite, as this is how these things matter to me

April 4 2022

I am shaken today by an unabstainable sadness. xxxx xxx xxxxxxx xx xxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xx xxxx. xxxx xxxxxxxxxxx, xxx xx xxxx xxxx x xxx xxx xx xxx xxxxx xx xxxxxxxxx xxx. xxxxxxx xx xxxx xx xx. x xx xxxxx xx xxxx xxx xx xx xxxxxxxx, xxxxx xxxxxxxx xx xxxx xxxxxxx. x xxxx xxxxx xxx xxxxx xxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx x xxx xx xxxxx xxxx. xx xxx xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxx xxx xxxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxx xx. xxxxx xx x xxxxxxx xxxxxxx x xxxxxx xx xxxx xxxx xx xx xx xxxxxxxx xxx xxxx xx xx xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxxxxxx. x xx xxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx. x xxxx xx xx xxxx xxx xxxx xxx x xxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx x xxxxx xxxxx x xxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxx xx xxx xx xxxxxx. xxx xxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx xx xx xxxxxx xx. x xxx xxx xxxx xxxx x xxxx xx xxxx xxxx x xxxxx xxx x xxxx x xxx xxxx xx xxxxxx xxx xxx. xx xxxx xxxx xxx xxx xxxxx xx xxx xxxx xxxxxx xxx x xxxx xx xxxx xxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxx. x xxxx xxxx xxxx x xx xxx xxxx xxxx xx xxxxxxx. I suppose that is the sort of faith that makes marriage a sacrament.

faith in love // love in faith

I am not married yet so maybe these rules do not apply and I still have an ounce of escapism in me left. But if considered as a metaphor...

I have been trying to be very honest xxxx xx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx x xxxx xx xxxxx xxx xxxx xx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxx xx xxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxx. She has been especially good at taking care not to aggravate me when I offer this so I suppose it's going very well according to plan. But it seems to make her very sad and I wonder if it would be kinder of me not to do all this. We have not spent this level of intimacy in a long time.

I'm not really sure where I am at the moment. Somewhere between Rome and Naples I suppose, on a high speed train. So i'm not in any real place except the machine that takes me through them.

The thing that makes me especially sad is xxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxx x xxxxx xx x xxx xxxxxx xxx xx x xxx xxx x xx xx xxxx xx xx xx xxx. xx xxxx x xxx xx xxxxxxxx xxxxx xx xx xxx xxxx x xxxxx xxxxxx. But part of it I suppose is letting all things pass through you, entertaining ideas as any good host might. At present I accept visitors which likely may not stay. I know in this domain especially that I am at the mercy of something much greater than myself. I do not belong to him but to that thng to which he also belongs.

Rome is so ancient it nearly feels wrong.

How can I be so disinterested in that form of theatre that seems always to entice?

Anyways, I keep faith.

The train car stinks of eggs and the landscape outside is marsh green. Spring bounty, blossom reproduction, untouchable from the clear plastic panes. That's not as deep as I think.

It's funny eh - the city is no less natural than the anthill - how education goes. You learn so you might understand but lose certainty of everything except poetry.

April 3 2022

Mom and I got a bit drunk last night and probably shared too much. Not necessarily in a harmful way though. Anyways, I have no interest in recounting all that. I've been avoiding writing today for my general fogginess of perception. I am not especially hungover, as in not mired by physical sickness, honestly not nauseous at all which is a pleasant surprise in response to that rich and velvety red wine. No, a welcome response. We are in the taxi now and have just passed the Colloseum, a great ancient monument dedicated to the enhancement of possible pleasure to the spectator of death. They did not have porn but we do not have that. I wonder which is better/worse? I get so caught up sometimes in the technicity of the present that I forget voyeurism as innate to life itself. I don't feel hungover today but I feel stupider, less capable of everything. Drugs and alcohol really do that, they make you irreparably stupider and sometimes I forget that. But they make you wiser, too, in other forms. I can only say with veritable authority since I've only narrowly escaped this category that the most brilliant mind, if it belongs to a shy and sheltered life, will have nothing to say that is worth listening to at all.

Oh I am struggling to fill these pages. But I have nearly reached my destination. I might be, if you will, saved by the taxi driver. A journey embarked from the backseat, barred from the wheel by so many physical + material conventions. That's a metaphor, I suppose. I wonder how that metaphor was made before.

April 2 2022

I still haven't paid rent. x xxxx xxxxxxx xxx xxxxxx xxx xxx xxxx.

It's now our first morning in Rome. I awoke by nonstop sneezing. xx xxxxx xxxx xxx xxxxx xxxx xxx xxxxxx, xxxxxxx xxxxx xx xxxx xx xxxxxx, xxxxxxx xxxxxxx, xxxxxxx, xxxxxxx xxxx xxxxx xxxxxxxxxx. I have been driven, I think, by a fear of confronting my own body and is not the yoni the most terrifying corporeal, perhaps in the entirety of the world. The graphic display and unfolding of such a thing is prevalent already I suppose in the tehcnics of the pornographic which is an indicator of our endtimes. When this becomes mainstream, The Mainstrean, either through progression of the spread and opened on the modern billboard or the convergence of the everyday into the online so that the experience of the destitute masses is that of the pronographic (the latter seems slightly stronger but it will likely be a bit of both two), is when humanity has truly debased the entirety of god and the weapon of love.

I have said it all in a roundabout way but my year thus far has been a psychologized sanitisation, of course the xxxxxxxxxx would occur and I would sob after church sermons, in that leafy, gently shaded marble and rose garden dedicated only to peace. Disrupting sanctity to my unease. Of course I cannot be blamed or punished for this, only if I never ceased to it. Fear, discomfort, the excersize of control over my own body, which I know on a deep level is that which ultimately controls me. No anorexia recovery programs tell you this. No anorexia recovery programs really work for this reason, because it is the affliction of our century. The aughts began with the stick thin. It transcends feminism, it is subjugated of course because it is feminised. But it is a uniquely affliction. Anorexia is small and practiced everyday suicide, is an allure of which the every moment is a hurtle towards death. To truly give it up one has to give up everything.

What I hope is that I may be truly allowed to experience pleasure after submitting from the falsity that I maintain any imposition of will over that thing.

It's our first morning in Rome and it's beautiful. Drinking coffee by the window of the white tableclothed hotel cafe. The streets outside are sunny, windy and still all at once. I will admit I'm a bit concerned as to how I should dress. The streets are mystically ancient to this 21st century. It's early spring and the leaves are budding on the trees, growing full and vibrantly green and catching the wind as billowy parachutes with great elasticity. In their youth, their most alive form. Of course, leaves in fall are no less beautiful.

I got very sad last night, xxxxxxxxx xx xx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xx xxx xxxx xxx xxxx. I know, at 22, that this is my biological prime. Why must gaining my personhood mean that those who love me must lose theirs? They are planning, already, for the transference of assets which must follow their deaths. I felt painfully homesick for a childhood to which I can't return.

April 1 2022

Another month where I have forgotten to send rent early and it will most likely come late. I am concerned about the present state of things. I think about my capacity to maintain what I've learned here for the future. I had an extremely productive day yesterday according to xxx xxxxxx xx xxxxxxxx xx xxxxxx xxx xxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx xxxxx xx xxx xx. I left the house at 8:30 and did not come home for an entire 12 hours, spending the day instead wandering through the greying campus and engaging in useless mental excersize. It drizzled slightly the entire day. I wore my velvet dress.

What I am recognizing now that I did not before is that this time alone has afforded me a certain sort of peace so potent it pained me because I could not adjust my human, and thus fundamentally flawed, soul to such a thing. I for the past few months have sat inside a great white milky vat of silence, isolation, lack of urgency, inactivity. Not to say, of course, that I've done nothing, but I've done nothing which effects any externality. It has been a period of thought, of meditation (no, I cannot hold myself in so high a regard to claim I have achieved the temperance of a monk in any way), irregardless it has certainly not been a period of action. I have inhabited it to its fullest extent. The psychic realm. The time comes next to puncture gauze. Unfold, slimy with mucus, from the cocoon, the Chrysallis as Murakami might call it.

I can afford a similar experience to xxxxxxx and maybe at this moment she is my spiritual guide (feels silly to say this of someone I've known so long, maybe that's the point too). By circumstance she has spent nearly two years alone xx xxx xxxxxxx xxxxx, marinating in nothing but self reflection. I know she was depressed as hell. This year though, she's finally emerged, has moved to a new city xxx xxxxxx, xxxx xxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx, made many new friends, begun dressing for herself, explored her sexuality etcetera etcetera. From what it seems, from her case study, is that a period alone may appear as stagnation but is in actuality the site of a great invisible chemical reaction, which requires the additional agent of the reincorporation of the external world to come to fruition.

I am staring down the barrel of this stage.

My concern, as I've attempted to illustrate and likely so far failed by the example xxxx xxx is that I will lose my present calm.

It is clear that I by now have the motivation and internal provisions to spring into action when the time comes. I must not allow it to burn me out. It is essential that I set boundaries and advocate for myself, xxxxxxxxxx xxxx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxx xx xxx. xx xxx xxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx xx xx xxxxxxx xx xxx xxxxx xxxxxxx, xx xxxxxxxx xxx xx xxxxxxxxx xxxx xx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxx (xxxxxxx x xxxxxxx x xxxxxxxxxx xxxxx xxx), xxx xxx xxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx xx xxx xxxxxxx xxxx xx xxxxx, my autisticky need for structure xx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxx xx xxxxx xx xx xxxxxxxxx xx xxxxxx xxxxxx.