by Megan Boyle
2:15pm: saw notes from dad and his computer on kitchen table. Ate the last chocolate chip cookie in a bag, then the last ‘petit ecolier’ cookie in another bag, half-awake. Remembered Henry Rollins diet and ate odwalla bar. Going to get metrx bars today. And cans of tuna. Soup. Oranges. I want to eat more fruit than Rollins. Heated coffee in microwave.
2:32pm: it’s crazy that I would re-heat the coffee. I don’t like hot drinks. Why would I heat the coffee?
plans for today: go to macmedics, deposit check, retrieve hair dye and maybe masha package from mom’s.
I AM NOT FUCKING WITH UNLOADING THE CONTENTS OF MY CAR INTO STORAGE UNIT TODAY. THE BACKSEAT AND TRUNK ARE FULL. IS ANYONE INTERESTED IN BUYING/TAKING MY ‘ESTATE’ (dresser, schoolwork from high school and college, stuffed animals, desk, three night stands, drawings, collages/art things, lamp—maybe a few lamps—clothes, shoes, I think a bed frame, I don’t know there’s way more, I don’t want to think about any of this shit, feel physically heavy, like since I’ve started writing what things I have it has felt like water is pouring into me from every body hole)
if anyone wants to come to the storage closet with me and take whatever they want that would be nice. tired of moving things around to places where no one cares about them. tired of seeing/touching them inducing sadness. i want my things to belong to someone who wants them, like me when i first got them.
2:39pm: maybe I should move to Florida. I lost a ring mom gave me. When I wear it I feel like an impostor, but I don’t know what I’m pretending to be.
2:41pm: drinking coffee: step one of getting more out of bed.
2:45pm: I’m a shitfuck.
5:50pm: sitting in car, parked outside dad’s. Ate 50mg noopept. Put on eye makeup. Skin looks older. Need gas fuck I forgot. Here we go. Here comes the day. Good old 5:53pm. People say ‘nowhere to go but up’ but you can always go down or another direction or just stay in the same place forever. I don’t know. Feeling bad. Absence of Philadelphia apartment. I still have keys, Zachary left his keys. Another year. Great.
5:58pm: macmedics is closed. So is bank. I am stupid. Going to get…er…jesus this is an embarrassing female cliché: I want to wear something that’s not my old clothes. Ceremonious dress buying is about to go down. Get ready. Look the fuck out forever 21 I’m coming for you.
6:52pm: in mall parking lot. Answered phone call w/Los Angeles number. Woman said something about health insurance and put me on hold before I could respond. Man said ‘is this Megan Boyle,’ enunciating almost sarcastically. I said ‘yeah can you guys please take my name off the list.’ He hung up.
7:24pm: huge sinking sadness at seeing nice clothes on mannequins at nordstrom. Aware of my insane outfit. Feel so far away from everything, like I might be in a space station controlling ‘Megan Boyle entering Nordstrom’ with a joystick. The space station would be in another galaxy—maybe a long-forgotten first draft of a better space station, got caught in a wormhole or something, is now so far from everything that it’s become the thing that’s been making people think the universe has an end.
7:28pm: passed a man in a suit leaning on railing as he said ‘I couldn’t even walk today.’ there is not much fabric separating my naked body from any of this.
8:47pm: watched reflection as I tried to do sexy thing the tarp was doing with its ass. The thing where the ass bumps up and down independently of the body. I can kind of do it. Thought ‘I am presenting, for the males. This is presenting for the males.’
9:03pm: took picture of an area in the mall where you can sit. You can sit and do anything here. You can read James Joyce if you feel like it. You can stare. Whatever. It is here, in the middle of the mall: an area for you to enjoy. This area is here to enrich your mall experience. Now you can check ‘sitting on a black leather sofa near potted plants’ off your list of activities to do at a mall. As I stood here taking the picture I felt my heart expanding, like, wanting to grow into something parachute-sized that could launch out of my chest and envelop me.
9:10pm: leaving mall. Bought a lot of cheap ass shit from forever 21 (to improve attractiveness? I guess?)
9:51pm: driving to mom’s to find & email or make new crying video for Rion Harmon music video solicitation, garner hair dye, books to mail. Have been searching for songs with words that make me cry and trying to sing along and cry. Cried a little while singing ‘a better son/daughter’ by rilo kiley.
9:54pm: on the phone, dad said ‘well, around 3am you might see a man with white hair get an ice cream sandwich from the freezer. I don’t know who the man is but, so,’ laughing. I laughed too.
9:57pm: pulled into mom’s driveway.
10–11:59PM: ordered coconut oil for mom and me. did other online things. jesus. barely remember. received package from masha containing adderall, vyvanse, fish stickers. one of the fish had a caption above his head that said ‘dando.’
APRIL 3, 2013
2:58am: taking the long way home through Baltimore. On 50mg vyvanse, got distracted by twitter conversation as I sat in my room and then my mom’s floor as she watched ‘the graduate.’ heard emotional/weepy noises coming from bed, where I thought mom had fallen asleep. Watched last scene together and felt affected. Last scene reminds me of last scene in ‘mumblecore’ when Tao and I are in the car after getting married. Earlier tonight Tao emailed that he wanted to get a divorce when he had more money via things being complicated with taxes and explaining marital status to people. I replied ‘sweet, sounds good.’ smells like Mrs. Meyers lemon hand soap in my car. Soap is near the air vent and the heat is on high. I forget when I bought it but the bottle is a little less than half-used. Zachary and I had it in our bathroom. It never fit on the sink very well.
6:51am: ate another 50mg vyvannse when I arrived at Dad’s. Unpacked and hung ‘temporary clothes for the few weeks I’ll be here.’ Responded late to an email from Jordan. Have been sitting at kitchen table, reformatting liveblog, pressing ‘enter’ key and dreading seeing spinning rainbow circle since maybe a little after 4am. Now sitting in car for a cigarette break. Thought, in a combination of David Bowie and Donovan’s voice, like, this was sung jauntily: ‘when mailman calls then the mail is due for the muppet boys at the muppet zoo.’ Chewed 15mg adderall with front teeth.
7:01am: car is getting warmer. Lighting second cigarette. Keep mentally replaying mailman David Bowie song thing. Alvie has been loudly running around and meowing at a rate probably five meows every two minutes. Insatiable. The Insatiable Alvie and his traveling shitshow of terrible fiendish delights. Worried dad is going to wake and use his computer and see liveblog. An older Asian woman in shiny matching hot pink pants and jacket seems to be dragging two almost identical small dogs into dad’s building.
Things to do today:
• drop off computer at macmedics
• write and mail gyno letter
• emails, as many as you can
7:25am: Alvie howling. Pet him on kitchen floor then Shirley came over and I picked them up at the same time. Shirley is drinking water out of my glass and now Alvie has joined her. No, he gave up. Alvie has given up on the water glass. Did he give up? Yes, he has officially jumped to the floor, hit the floor with a loud thump, but he is unscathed, perhaps even happy about the thumping—yes, he seems to be thumping deliberately, furthering his kitchen shitshow of tragic sounds. Trying to get more bass for the shitshow. He needs more bass, that’s all it is. Once he has the bass he’ll be happy. Alvie and the thump squad (a.k.a. his feet) hot on the trail for more bass. Got a craigslist tip about the sickest subwoofer, it’s on top of the fridge. You don’t even have to install it anywhere, it’s included. All you need to do is climb to the top of the fridge and jump off. That’s it. All the bass in the world. The sickest bass. Any hour, any time, really any time, all yours: just climb to the top of the fridge and jump. It’s about how you hit the floor. BOOM. Thumpmaster Alvie and the thump squad will not settle for anything less than the highest gravity fridge-top bass. What I’m saying is he s
eems to be jumping off the fridge a lot.
7:31am: Shirley walked backwards to sit on a folder, is now staring at a lamp, bumping nose on lid of dad’s computer. She has been fiending for the space between my arms and the keyboard all night. Offered water glass to Alvie, which he smelled, looked concerned at, and walked away. Oh my god. Way more meows than five every two minutes. Over ten times a minute.
7:46am: rubbed the shit out of Alvie. Gave him the nicest longest petting. He didn’t purr but he looked very pleased and squinty-eyed. Seems to have quieted him. Jesus. Need to pet him and let him hump and knead on me more.
7:55AM: coffee maker started automatically a few minutes ago. can hear dad doing alvie-like thumping in bathroom. searching for bass, at this hour…jesus…nothing can stop the search…
11:39AM: emptied trash on dad’s computer. forgot about volume and ‘empty trash’ sound startled me, mostly in genitals. a genital startling, via ‘empty trash’ sound. jumped alvie-style. heart still normalizing. it was like, a protective startling.
11:41AM: on some level i am always fantasizing about being on an endless cruise ship and there is no money and it’s full of people i like. i think i believe that can happen, on some level, somehow. i have an automatic tendency to ‘hitch a ride’ on the closest things resembling the cruise ship (a.k.a. ‘lack of responsibility’) until i can get to the real cruise ship. seems like a really easy metaphor i just did even though it occurred in my head as original. i’m listening to the ‘e.t.’ theme song. the flying part. ‘flying theme.’
11:52AM: it stopped playing. would constantly playing john williams movie score music at a mental ward improve things for anyone? i feel so much better listening to this. are there any people who are into really obscure movie soundtracks, like, obsessively?
12:20PM: two more people ‘liked’ my facebook activity on ‘books.’ i don’t like reading things where the person is like ‘this sucks’ about what they’re doing. but i do that. wait…i don’t like it when it seems really obvious that they’re enjoying writing about how much they think they suck. i’m not enjoying or not enjoying this, at this moment. this gives me an opportunity to talk about something that i don’t think people have talked about but annoys me:
there is this thing…
it’s impossible to talk about it without shittalking, so i will shittalk. i don’t like it when people seem to fetishize depression to the point that it’s like. it just seems really obvious, to me at least, if a person is saying ‘i’m so sad’ but they’re not. it’s funny to say ‘i’m so sad’-like things when i’m sad sometimes, but when i feel really sad, like, can’t-do-anything-but-lie-there-hoping-for-tears sad, i’m not going to tweet ‘i’m so depressed i just so hate myself so much hehe.’ i’m probably not going to tweet or write or do anything can’t believe i’m typing this. i’m getting it out. okay. these are things i’ve been thinking. constipating my brain. shittin’ em out rah nah.
here’s the thing about my thing:
why does that bother me? because i think i’m the only person who experiences sadness/depression ‘correctly?’ i don’t think that. okay, so problem solved. i don’t think that anymore, maybe those people really do feel as sad as they seem to want to be perceived to be. they probably do, because they’ve been alive long enough to know how to type. they’re just different. i don’t know. people can bond over anything. seems like a lot of people are just looking for friends. i’m not shittalking that, i want that too. going to try to do this logically, as an ‘i’m so sad lol’ person, assuming their ‘starting mood’ is neutral/not sad, really going to try to some brain surgery on this one:
• things are going on around me, like the things in the room. i’m looking at things in a room.
• i don’t feel anything (but person would not be conscious of not feeling anything, i think).
• i’m being quiet now. some people act loud and make jokes and are seen around more people, and some people are quiet and seen around less people.
• what type of person do i want to be? do i have to be one or the other?
• i’m at an age where i’m deciding things like this, where i think there are only two major personalities i can have, maybe.
• i would rather have friends than not have friends.
• it seems harder/requires more effort to be talkative and make jokes.
• i am alone, looking at things in my room, looking at the internet.
• i feel more bad than good, because i think people are having more fun than me. i consider these people my ‘sources of my misery.’
• since i’m starting to think of things in terms of opposites/’sources of misery,’ it means there might be a real enemy out there, my enemy is my opposite.
• my enemy, the loud person, is what made me notice my quietness, by defaultedly being louder than me and creating the position of ‘less-loud person,’ which feels limiting.
• i want to seek vengeance on my enemy for showing me how i’m not like them, and for having more fun than me.
• i’m going to ‘take back’ my enemy, i’m going to get them at their own game.
• the internet allows me to be loud without saying anything.
• what would my enemy not say: my enemy seems happy, so i must be sad.
• i’m going to ‘shove it in the enemy’s face’ by saying ‘i’m so sad.’
i have no idea.
pretty sure i can only write something like that because there was a time when i felt/thought those things. i remember deciding ‘when i get to college i’m going to show the world just how likable i can be, i’m going to be friendly as shit, that’ll give the world a taste of its own medicine, nothing like being affable and pleasant to really rub in the medicine.’
you could probably argue that i’m doing the same thing right now, with writing this whole thing. it certainly is a whole lot of myself i’m rubbing into something. i don’t know. i seemed really different around 17-19, also. i’m like…defending myself…against myself…because i’m afraid i secretly do things for the same reasons i imagine ‘i’m so sad’ people doing…and i don’t like that…? ‘too close to home…?’ oh fiddlesticks. i can’t even tell if that’s accurate. i don’t even know if know enough about why i do things that i could admit to doing the thing i don’t like. i just know how to identify/describe the thing i don’t like. i don’t know that about me. my instinct is to say ‘no, i don’t do this thing i don’t like,’ or ‘i have done but now rarely do this thing i don’t like.’
i already solved the problem when i said i don’t think i’m the only person capable of experiencing sadness/depression, i don’t think there’s a ‘correct’ way to do it, and i can never know how another person really feels. so. rationally i’m set. it’s still annoying to imagine someone saying ‘i’m so sad’ or ‘everyone hates me’ but without…like…so let’s just say they feel okay and people like them. then like, what are you trying to do?
heard somewhere that it’s easier to make people cry than make people laugh. i agree with that. laughing requires surprise. crying requires less surprise. like. hm. jesus, i actually don’t know about this. because if i make myself think the same phrase over and over i’ll probably start laughing. but the source of the laughing would be that like…i’m surprised at the absurdity of hearing something repeated and how easily i can make myself do it. but in ‘good will hunting’ robin williams kept making him repeat ‘it’s not your fault’ and he cried. or did something like crying. i don’t know let’s just everyone be chill, i’m sorry for not being chill.
2:29PM: matthew donahoo emailed me an interesting question. here is what he said:
‘Felt really interested in what you said about decrease in correspondence w friends and increased correspondence w strangers via liveblog
why do you think that is happening?’
2:45PM: looked at 20-30 facebook pictures of someone i sort of dated in 2008 to see if he was still attractive. he was. not as attracted
to him as i remember, but still good. not 30+ pictures good, ho ho ho. oh yuck at me.
3:58PM: emailed matthew donahoo my response. looked for video of myself crying, for rion’s video thing. couldn’t find. guess i’ll make a new one.
4:05PM: i’ve been sitting in this chair for longer than some of you have been planting corn. some of you just started planting corn a few minutes ago. i’m an old pro. i’m a bass pro outdoor fishing outlet store. there is a mall in maryland where you get off an exit called ‘coca cola drive’ and enter the mall on something called ‘bass pro drive.’
4:14PM: you can say ‘several’ or ‘many’ or ‘mostly’ or ‘always’ but probably…you can also say ‘probably’…you want to avoid ‘always’ and ‘never’ because someone can probably always correct you. i learned that in law school.
4:16PM: look, another day where i didn’t do what i said i would do. gotta try going to macmedics before they close at 5pm.
4:22pm: dressed in jeans, blue button-down, black cardigan. That sentence was to inform you of what I’m wearing. Laughed a little, ‘on purpose,’ thinking ‘I hate you’ mostly at myself.
4:27pm: exited apartment while making eye contact with Shirley, thinking ‘I got rats on my head but don’t call me the rat king’ like how the Andy milionakis theme song is ‘got bees on my head but don’t call me a bee head.’ contemplated each versions of theme song walking to my car. Remembered David Bowie song thing from this morning as I entered car.
4:31pm: just thought I heard Shirley meow to my right. Have heard ‘her’ meow three times since previous sentence.
4:39pm: unrolled window so ‘Shirley’ could have fresh air while I smoked. It’s just…that…bookbag is arranged in such a way that it looks like her cat carrier on the seat the other night.
4:47pm: no way I’ll make it to macmedics by 5pm. Still want to drive. Bumper sticker on Prius says ‘hybrid cars: so many miles, so little gas.’ Shithead. Haven’t eaten since jelly beans. Food is hard. The least they could’ve done was made it so there was only one thing people could eat.
