LIVEBLOG

by Megan Boyle

  11:32AM: preoccupied with moving. stayed overnight at dad’s apartment, dad stayed at mom’s. about to drive to put things in storage closet now, then drive to philadelphia, help zachary move things to new jersey, move the rest of my things back here tomorrow.

  11:45am: I asked z for a razor to take care of ‘lilith fair business’ under my arms. Put razor in sink. Z came in bathroom and said ‘oh I see you put the razor back.’ I said ‘oh razorbacks! That was the name of the bar in the storage plaza. Minimart. Er, strip mall. Where I worked.’ then said ‘storage plaza minimart strip mall’ in riff raff’s voice, laughing some. Could tell I was alone in room.

  11:50am: z was pooping. I said ‘I’m just going to start shaving you while you poop.’ z said ‘great.’ I splashed water on his face. I said ‘is that the sound of you pooping?’ he said ‘no, the shower is still on a little.’ rubbed dr. Bronner’s soap on his face. I said ‘sometimes my poops sound like that.’ and imitated the sound. He said ‘me too. Never for this long though.’ I said ‘sometimes mine are this long.’ he wiped and made a funny face and flushed. He said ‘I never sit while I flush. I’m afraid it’s going to like, suck me in.’ I smiled and said something and he stood and washed his hands.

  11:52am: z turned on ‘wait wait don’t tell me’ and resumed his seat on the toilet so I could continue shaving his face. He doesn’t like to waste water. I left the sink on and said ‘yes Zachary, sometimes we must use one of the earth’s endless resources’ and he smiled. thought I heard the radio say something. I said ‘unlike triangles, squares have an additional fourth side. Is that what they said?’ z said ‘they were talking about granola bars. A company made triangular ones but they had to recall them because you can poke yourself with a triangle. Squares, though. They have four sides but are less sharp. But really a circle has endless points, so.’ I said ‘yeah, remember Tao’s poem where he talks about the sphere of knives or something?’ Zachary smiled thoughtfully and said ‘no.’ I said ‘it was funny.’

  12:01pm: left apartment. Face feels tight. Want lotion.

  12:36pm: following z. Hell tarp.

  1:31pm: did not take long to stow things in storage unit. Wearing a pink sweater from high school and gave zachary a blue one. He peed in a ‘neuro passion’ bottle while I chugged water from another bottle. He said ‘get it ready’ and I put it under his pee stream. He said ‘man i got a wide stream.’ It was like, directly on his penis head. Looked really funny. The stream was wide.

  1:33pm: a lot of these times are arbitrary, like now it’s actually 2:39 but I just remembered something that happened after the thing you just read, before the thing you’re about to read. Here is the thing: I found the all-white breo watch broken on my car floor. I showed Zachary. He said ‘well. You know. They’re cheap, yeah. They break. Hm.’ I said ‘it broke’ with inappropriate unintentional cheerfulness in my voice. The inappropriate cheerfulness was punctuated by me then jogging to my car.

  1:34pm: Zachary is following me out of the storage unit to 95. He’s going to Philadelphia. I’m going to mom’s to deposit a check then dropping things off at Dad’s then going to Philadelphia. Think adderall shipment will be at mom’s.

  1:57pm: talked with mom. Feeling unexpectedly sad. Told her that. Having things seems ‘evil’ or something. Things make you have memories. I don’t know. Seeing all the things from our old house in the storage unit. All the things we’re forgetting every day. Why are we saving a computer desk chair with wheels from 1996. Where is anyone ever going to put that. Stomach is doing weird shit.

  2:09pm: Ran to the alley where I used to park. Wanted to see the back of the building and my kitchen window and fire escape (fourth floor leftmost window). Barely remembered what it felt like to park in my spot. Like as I’m writing this liveblog, there are instances where I think ‘I want to include this, I want to remember this’ and when I start typing I only remember the idea of wanting to remember something and maybe something about the scenery or context of whatever it was I wanted to remember. That’s how I felt in the alley, taking the picture of the back of my old building. Like I was in a moment of almost remembering something. I knew in the future I’d remember this moment because I had a picture, but the feeling as I was taking the picture was like ‘I can almost remember.’ I think what I’m saying is all sort of understood as ‘a thing of life,’ maybe to the point that it’s a cliché, but thinking that doesn’t stop me from feeling what I’m feeling.

  2:10pm: heard a feminine coughing above me. I am parked across from my old building. Looked up to the left and saw the coughing woman on her balcony. I didn’t have a balcony. Her shirt was really green. Other than her, it feelss eerily, scarily quiet. The air.

  2:19pm: turned key in ignition. Hope there is adderall shipment at mom’s. But also like. Doesn’t matter. What good is anything going to do me. That sounds dramatic but it doesn’t feel dramatic.

  2:20pm: arrived at mom’s. Asked if she’d seen storage unit. She said no and ‘what’s he got in there.’ told her about the wheely desk chair. She said ‘oh, jeez.’ talked about keeping things, memories, whether memories are good or not. She had found letters from our ancestors in Oregon and read one aloud from February 4, 1879, containing these phrases:

  ‘I suppose you have heard of the death of our dear mother Johnson.’

  ‘She fell asleep and gave us no warning of her departure.’

  ‘Jesus took her home’

  ‘I presume you have heard of the death of brother George’

  ‘Please let me hear from you occasionally’

  Received shipment of bulk ‘noopept’ powder with a ‘microscooper’ device and 30 30mg adderalls. Ate 20mg noopept. Seems interesting, definitely caused some kind of feeling. Mom asked how it made me feel and I said ‘brighter. Not like, intelligent-brighter, just brighter.’ she said ‘well if you don’t die maybe I’ll try it.’

  2:45PM: told mom i was never going to stop the liveblog, like, just keep doing it forever, writing everything down forever. she seemed confused. i said ‘like, until i die, this is going to be my sole output, i’m not going to do anything else. like, with writing.’ she still seemed confused. i said ‘the liveblog thingy, remember?’ she said ‘oh, right. is what you’re saying…are you saying you’re still writing in it?’ i said ‘yeah, yeah. yeah. people have been contacting me and stuff and it feels really good. i feel really focused on it, i’m happy when i’m writing it. i’m just going to do it forever, write down what i do forever, and that will be what i will have done. when i die. like. it’ll be my output. the only thing i ever write again. do you get it?’ she paused and made a face and said ‘oh my. has anyone done that yet?’ i said i didn’t think so. she said ‘oh my’ again and seemed excited and supportive.

  3:15pm: I like how short this shrunken sweater from high school is. Really gets to the point of the shirt. Takes out all the bullshit. Sweater: removes the bullshit.

  3:36pm: exiting mom’s. She said ‘don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon and you’ll have everything to look forward to,’ regarding moving, I think. Used a robot voice to say ‘interesting double meaning.’

  3:40pm: ate a b-vitamin and 30mg adderall ‘for the hell of it.’

  3:44pm: Zachary called for Philadelphia arrival time update. He said ‘so like, around seven?’ Low-level conversation.

  3:50pm: a Camry with ‘help save the next girl 241’ in some kind of neon window paint on all its windows passed in front of me into the left lane. Thought ‘interesting. Literary. Er. Something.’ yes I thought ‘er,’ I wouldn’t lie about thinking ‘er.’

  4:07pm: about to pull into bank parking lot. I am about to deposit a check and my shirt says ‘retarded faggot.’

  4:08pm: nevermind, bank closes at 2pm on Saturdays. Pulling into road again. Window is down. The weird eerie scary hollow quiet thing is happening with the air again.

  4:11pm: I never want…like…when I’m on adderall I never want to be feeling anything else ever again. How come you can
’t feel that normally. Do people with degrees and houses and jobs and happy relationships with people they see regularly feel this all the time? Did I mess up my brain somehow, with drugs? Like if I had never taken them.

  The first amphetamine I took was vyvanse, in 2009. I wrote all of ‘clams’ in like a few hours at the university of Baltimore computer lab. The vyvanse was bright blue and pretty. Now I’m going the wrong way on highway again, shit, got distracted.

  5:15PM: i can smell my feet big time. i’m sitting cross-legged on a chair by a table facing a wall at dad’s house. the table and chair are from the house i grew up in, surprised they ‘made it out alive’ from storage closet. seems like my dad would just not think to look in storage closet for things and just buy a new thing. sweating. poured another 10mg ‘microscooper’ of noopept under my tongue. feeling noopept and adderall effects, i think.

  TO IMPROVE MICROSOFT WORD, IF ANY MICROSOFT WORD C.E.O.S ARE READING: instead of doing ‘change back to [uncapitalized version of word]’ and ‘Stop Automatically Correcting [word],’ maybe just have an option under ‘Format’ that’s like ‘don’t do any auto-correcting, ever.’ that also would be good for numbered lists.

  slept on air mattress in closet-sized room last night with zachary. it was comfortable. i’d like to live in a house with like, a kichen, bathroom, two regular-sized rooms, and 15-20 little rooms. all of the little rooms could have themes. they could all be painted different colors. it would be funny to take people to the ‘sex room.’ the sex room would have padded walls and floors. yeah. or. no, need to think about this. would like to have a ‘fish room,’ like at pet stores when you go to the fish area and it’s just like, walls of fish. need to have a butler to feed the fish for me.

  5:40PM: my dad has one of those freezers that has a ‘water dispenser’ and ‘ice maker’ on its door. you can choose ‘cubed’ or ‘crushed’ ice. seems great. i love these things. filled a glass with crushed ice, then pressed a button and water came out of the ice-hole. remembered holding the bottle up to zachary’s pee stream.

  6:20PM: deleted tweet reply where i said i had not blown 3-5 writers yet. considered deleting the 1:02AM update about this from last night, then considered adding another meta-edit thing to it, then thought ‘you’re getting carried away, you haven’t even written about yesterday, you’re getting carried away with meta element, you are getting lost in a meta loop, this is probably only interesting to you.’ imagined adding ‘EDIT: please scan down to 6:20PM for more information about this update’ and laughed forcefully out my nose. getting carried away. this entire time i’ve been typing about yesterday i’ve been feeling like ‘get this done fast so you can respond to tao’s comment about involving him in liveblog, to further liveblog.’ there should be a thing for this. when you start thinking things like this you should have to get ‘slimed,’ like on nickelodeon. originally i pictured getting body-slammed by a human-sized black letter ‘X’ or ‘/,’ like what happens to numbers when you cancel them out with your pen or whatever. sliming seems better. like no matter where you are, when you start thinking meta things, ten gallons of green liquid gets dumped on you. the ‘X’ would vanish but the slime would stick around and make you think about how you let yourself get carried away with meta things.

  6:35PM: i’m further letting the meta thing get in the way of writing about yesterday. it still seems interesting to me that i haven’t written it yet but you’ve already read it. trying to think of ways to further the meta thing. seems like it would just involve me being there the moment you were born, saying ‘you will read this someday. i want you to know that i haven’t fleshed out the section on march 29, 2013 yet.’ i’d need to type about going back in time to the hospital, to do that, in the liveblog.

  8:20PM: zachary called to see where i was. have been writing about yesterday and feeling bored but committed to writing boring things. i said ‘i’m still writing.’ he said ‘we’re gonna go to the bbq barbeque burrito bar.’ the reception was bad. i said ‘you’re going to what?’ he said ‘barbeque burrito bar. we’re going.’ the ‘we’ meant him and travis, i think. i said ‘okay, sounds good.’ he said ‘alright’ or something. we kept interrupting each other without saying words. he said ‘so i’ll see you later’ and i said ‘want me to call when i leave?’ but he had already hung up.

  9:44PM: finished writing yesterday. left out a lot. at some point dad entered apartment with cat food and said things about how he knew it wasn’t ‘the right kind’ but he got it anyway. he doesn’t like animals, and i think feels guilty about not liking them. he’s always interacted with our animals really weirdly. like. competitive, almost. resentful and competitive and aware that they have some kind of upper hand, which he pretends they don’t by like, being overly nice to them. putting on displays of niceness. he doesn’t seem to mind them overall, and mom has strong feelings about avoiding situations where things could get knocked over, so that’s why i’m staying here with the cats in april. dad said he was going over to mom’s to order pizza and watch ‘homeland’ and spend the night, i think. unsure if it makes sense for me to go to philadelphia. seems like a ‘waste’ to not go, but also no reason to go. feel like, connected to something, doing this. this seems like the only thing i’ve got going for me.

  9:55PM: smelled something and thought ‘have been enjoying the multifaceted crotch stylings of my crotch.’ limited crotch stylings. crotch edition. i just like ‘crotch stylings,’ i think. like. sounds like an action movie star. my dad has christmas decorations everywhere, still. think christmas decorations have been up year-round in every place he’s lived since 2008. that’s just his style: christmas style. he just really likes christmas. jesus. that is very not true. sad.

  11:14PM: walked outside to the front of apartment building with computer and cigarettes and keys. since locking my keys inside last night i’ve very key-conscious when i leave, like, i check for keys three-to-five times instead of zero-to-two. a buick-looking car with red and blue flashing cop lights was parked outside. it idled for the duration of my cigarette, then a few moments after i finished. i thought ‘i want to go inside’ as it simultaneously turned off. thought ‘no, that means. they’re going to get you if you go inside, they heard you think ‘i want to go inside.” went inside anyway.

  11:21PM: called zachary back. he was understandably upset, that i didn’t call at all tonight to say i’d be late. it was always him calling. he asked what i was going to do. i said ‘i don’t know, there’s no TV there. or internet.’ he said ‘yeah.’ i said ‘or books.’ he said ‘what?’ i said ‘or books. just us.’ could tell i was being annoying and indecisive. apologized for not calling. he said it was okay. asked what i should do. he said ‘you’re not going to want to come tomorrow either so you might as well just come tonight.’ i said ‘you’re right,’ unsure if he was right. i said ‘are you upset? i don’t want to come if you’re upset with me.’ he said ‘i’m always happy to see you.’ he has said this when i’ve doubted if he’s wanted me around. rarely feels reassuring.

  11:51PM: alvie has been meowing a lot, but also not eating and acting like he doesn’t know me when i pet him. walked to bedroom and he trotted behind me, then kneaded my arm hard, seemingly angrily. feeling drained from typing. will be busy and internetless in philadelphia tomorrow and want to milk the internet at dad’s. milking the internet to update thing i’m currently tired of updating. good one, me. big dick boyle over here. alvie left bed abruptly to drink out of the toilet. now he looks asleep on a bathmat.

  MARCH 31, 2013

  12:01AM: saw something on kitchen table and thought ‘dad seems to be doing a lot of seminars.’ charging computer now. alvie followed me to kitchen. constant meowing. want to be able to satisfy him.

  12:08AM: realistically imagined tomorrow being ‘the end of it all’ and felt a sinking thing.

  12:11AM: peeing and leaving. no updates until tomorrow evening, probably. no plans to stop updating this.

  12:23am: Zachary left voicemail saying
if I hadn’t left already to bring toothpaste, but if I had left, not to worry about bringing. I was in car but hadn’t started it. Debated not going in for more toothpaste so it would seem like I had already left. This was really a tough one. I’d have to drive extra fast to increase realism of ‘I had already left when you called.’ remember some movie…jesus, seems like it’s a movie I’ve seen a lot but I don’t remember anything about it…someone is like ‘why hasn’t anyone ever told me about this?’ and a cop-like person says ‘two words: plausible deniability.’ went back for toothpaste, making myself sound more reliable than I am didn’t seem worth it to deny both of us toothpaste. Still lied a little on phone though. I said I had already left but ‘just barely,’ which is sort of true, I was in the car when I got the voicemail.

  12:33am: thought ‘right on red, motherfucker’ and ‘every day is a school day’ while making a right turn on a red light near a sign that said something about school days.

  12:39am: the ‘plausible deniability’ movie is ‘independence day.’ the president is asking about why no one told him about Area 51.

  12:45am: passed ‘not-obviously cop car’ cop car who had pulled a person over. Thought ‘do cops ever do bad stuff…should I be a cop now…would it be funny if I was a cop…[picture of ICP in cop uniforms]…it would suck to get pulled over and the cop happened to be a k9 cop…they should just train people to smell drugs instead, create more jobs…’

  12:50am: for a long time I didn’t know why people would say ‘it’s not a tumor’ in Arnold Schwarzenegger voice and I’d say it too.

  12:51am: sometimes I’m like ‘thought ‘[thing]’ and sometimes I just say the thought.

  1:24am: reading this from the beginning, trying to see if I like it as a thing. Lit second cigarette of drive. Pictured map of rt. 95 between Baltimore and Philadelphia with little red circles indicating all the places the matches I’ve thrown out the window have landed. There would be tracking devices in the matches and it’d be a 300-year map showing where the matches went after I threw them and how they’ve disintegrated.