LIVEBLOG

by Megan Boyle

  5:17pm: on the way to dad’s office to drop off storage unit keys. Have slammed foot on brakes to avoid collision twice so far. Liveblog seems isolating now. Passing ‘coca cola drive’ exit. Going 15 mph. Only person in the world.

  5:24pm: earlier on the phone after it had been established several times that we were ending conversation, like had said ‘okay see you soon’ a few times, dad interjected to excitedly say things about getting a box spring and mattress to replace deflated air mattress in my room. He said ‘it’s just good for if when Jeff or Joe wants to stay over, it’s good to have that for’ and I interrupted him to say ‘I understand.’ seems shitty of me.

  5:33pm: favorited tweets by Mira where she said things about spring feeling apocalyptic and worse than it was before. Feels now more than ever like ‘this shouldn’t be happening.’

  5:36pm: am I doing something differently than in beginning of liveblog or did people just lose interest via inconsistent updates…troubled by this to annoying degree…like feel like I should stop and hide in a hole for a long time to redeem myself, big time overexposure…interested in people’s thoughts re this

  5:43pm: dad pulled out of office as I pulled in. Following him now to the bank. Have bloody nose in left nostril.

  5:48pm: used ‘say yes! to cucumbers’ wet face towel on my face and looked up savings account number online. Remembered being in Spain re smell of face towel, then remembered smell of using towel the last night at the philadelphia apartment. Have less money in savings account than I thought. Wanted to deposit vice check from January. Bank was closed. Filling car with gas now. Nosebleed gone.

  5:56pm: I started this thinking there was an end somehow. Like I’d figure something out and my life would improve. Maybe shitty people just stay shitty.

  5:59pm: thought ‘what is a sinkhole.’ pictured road/oncoming traffic lowering six feet but otherwise staying the same and the six-feet-lowering movement would make a sound of ‘person opening can of soda and going ‘ah!”

  6:27pm: conversation with dad. Did not go well. He showed me around an office building. Seems like all I want to type about this.

  6:42pm: no energy to try to take photo of escalade in front of me with ‘QDILLAC’ license plate. This happened maybe ten minutes ago, now I have a little more energy. Now at another stoplight. Woman pulled into empty left lane, slowed car almost to a stop maybe three cars behind me, honked.

  6:49pm: this thing has gotten me into some kind of…like a rhythm of something making it hard to think non-negative things about everything I see. Feel that updating this is the cause of this, also that it doesn’t matter what the cause of this is, can’t write anything but shit like this right now. It’s like when you get comfortable enough in a relationship that you don’t think about the other person and argue, but ‘other person’ in this situation is me. I’m repeating myself I’m repeating myself I’m repeating myself I’m repeating myself some people just chill on porches all day and drink mountain dew. People don’t like shit like this for the same reasons I don’t like shit like this. Need to take baby steps to get out of this.

  7:56pm: does anyone call American spirit menthol lights ‘punishers?’

  7:57-8:17PM: while driving to mom’s re-read dreams from the other day and felt i also experienced them a little, like the back corner of your brain that remembers dreams can be activated by text.

  why do people hate listening to dreams?

  i used to hate it too. at some point i started thinking ‘it’s not any less real than being awake, you’re ‘hating’ for irrational reasons.’

  8:18-8:30PM: talked with colin on phone. i will make a copy of my application and send tomorrow. seems strange to do this, like. hm. you probably get why it’s strange.

  8:31-11:15PM: talked with mom.

  MOM CONVERSATION HIGHLIGHTS:

  • telling me she referred to a period of her life where she was mostly miserable and the only hope was that it would end by dying ‘the abyss.’ she said ‘i thought i was in hell and my dad was the devil, i really believed that was happening.’ she thought this every day but never told anyone. i said ‘i feel like i’m in hell right now but dad’s okay.’

  • hopalong cassidy (cowboy TV star of the 50’s) picked her out of a crowd and kissed her on the cheek when she was 6. when she was in her twenties, she was transcribing the memoirs of a guy who was friends with gene autry (another TV cowboy). she said ‘i never asked for this, i never wanted cowboys.’ seemed so funny, she looked confused. i said ‘the world gave you cowboys.’ we laughed a lot.

  • when she said ‘i just never felt like i belonged anywhere…out there…but anyway,’ can picture her posture on the couch saying this, the way she said ‘out there.’

  • the end when we were laughing at the thing she asked me to omit, when i was picking at corned beef leftovers, she said ‘you think you have it bad? come look at this.’ on TV, saw a black and white room of 40-50 gaunt, terribly drained and broken-looking faces (she’d been watching a holocaust documentary). the faces looked like they’d been watching me ‘this entire time’ in a way that seemed shocking and hilarious and i immediately lost it. remembered a part a woody allen movie where he talks about watching holocaust movies to put himself in perspective (actually can’t remember if he ever said that), then imagined mom…mom and woody allen…side-by-side with concerned faces watching an eight-hour holocaust documentary…didn’t actually imagine that, that’s the picture that represents the connection i thought was funny. mom was laughing and said ‘this is terrible.’ i said ‘i’m not laughing at that, i’m laughing about you…your situation…’ she said ‘this is like chuckles the clown, from mary tyler moore.’

  • hearing about the ticker tape room she worked in. she said ‘it made a sound like…’ i said ‘i think i know.’ she said ‘it’s not like a typewriter exactly.’ i said ‘i think i know it, the sound.’ her job was to read everything on the ticker tape and cut out things that had to do with broadcasting. i said ‘you were just being the internet’ and she said ‘that’s what it was, that’s exactly what. i’m so old with the ticker tape.’ i said ‘when i’m your age i’ll be like [crotchety old woman voice] where’s my gmail, how do you get the gmail, tweet tweet’ and she laughed and i felt good.

  • time she cried a little and said ‘you’ll be happy you had those experiences someday, very happy and very sad.’

  • story about how she walked out on a job without telling anyone and she never went back

  • story about how she ‘made it snow’ by thinking

  • story about how she covered a consumer reports thing about technology in las vegas and interviewed the guy who made one of the first VCRs. no one knew about them yet. she was taking notes really fast, then said ‘i don’t know what i’m taking notes about.’ the VCR man said ‘do you want me to write your article for you?’ she said ‘i wanted to say ‘yes! yes, and i’ll pay you!” but she wrote it. i said ‘and you did it all without adderall.’ she said ‘nope, and i did it, all me no adderall.’

  ate baba ganoush and three rice cakes.

  11:24PM: thinking about computers…singularity…can’t remember if mom and i talked about the singularity…

  11:55PM: want to update really fast so i can party with mom more. hearing holocaust violins from her bedroom. going to make her turn on mary tyler moore or something. when you have a B.D.O. that’s no big whoop you get to treat yourself by partying with mom.

  APRIL 9, 2013

  12:30AM: have been partying with tao’s mushrooms liveblog, holding my pee despite abdominal laughing motion, holding pee still to write this, briefly unsure if i meant ‘i have to pee’ or ‘i’m on mushrooms’ and ‘what is the difference between having to pee and being on mushrooms.’

  12:31-7:59AM: partied all night long. have been partying since 3PM april 7, i think. no sleep party invitations go to only me and mom, only if she’ll party hard. watched three episodes of ‘homeland’ with mom. she fell asleep and i watched four
more in bed.

  i want the red-headed slut from ‘homeland’ to pound me, the marine p.o.w.

  can’t think of his name, feel like it’s ‘bobby sox’

  brody

  brody the red-headed slut marine

  what an interesting face

  he’s probably one of those ‘secretly british’ people, like christian bale

  identified with claire danes when she was obsessively watching his spy cameras of the red-headed slut, feel like i do that but use the internet so i don’t get the actual ‘goods’

  a yawn is circular-feeling, spherical

  wanted all of ‘homeland’ to be the part at the cabin where they’re making pasta, or any times they get to hang out, or knowing more about the torture parts

  can barely understand what mandy patinkin is saying, he sounds like he’s talking backwards most of the time

  sun is up

  this was nice.

  8:21AM: could easily go into another ‘just not going to sleep for forever’ thing again right now.

  4:27PM: woke a little before 4PM. calls from macmedics and colin. have a headache. read and liked heiko julien’s beyonce story. i feel a little like nardwuar when i type what i’ve read by people i know online, like if i’d look someone in the eyes and say their name in person.

  SO FAR TODAY:

  • before opening eyes, thought something like “kicking the bucket.’ why? it’s from fishing, there would be a bucket of fish. when the fish were cooked you could kick the empty bucket. that’s good. that caught on. try to make up something like ‘kicking the bucket:’ two syllables, one syllable, two syllables. it can also be one syllable for all three. it has to also mean dying? it’s like, a situation, a bucket getting kicked? too hard.’

  • ate two sugar-free sprouted cookies

  • poured coffee

  • printed apartment application copy

  • listened to voicemail/checked email/text messages

  • held one b-vitamin and looked for headache medicine. shook excedrin migrane bottle. held two capsules. peed. i’ve been hoping i would someday catch one of these things in action, caught it, here is what happened:

  saw an almost-empty water bottle about 20’ away, in the next room. thought ‘complete this after flushing the toilet, before it starts refilling: swallow all three pills with the remaining water in the living room. you must be sure there is enough water before you start. is there? [seems hard to tell, will say ‘yes’ to up the stakes]. if there is not enough water to swallow the pills you have to swallow them with nothing or with hot coffee, so you’d better be sure there is enough water in that bottle. [doesn’t look like there is enough water]. don’t give me this last minute backing-down shit. i don’t want to see another baghdad disaster. you let us down big time boyle. this is your chance to redeem yourself. REMEMBER: AFTER FLUSHING BUT BEFORE IT STARTS REFILLING. ONE SECOND LATE AND YOU’RE GONE. GO GO GO GO.’

  i did it. i swallowed all three. there was water to spare. sitting back and waiting for the goods to roll in.

  5:02PM: my ten-year high school reunion is in a few days. i think i permanently removed myself from the facebook group somehow, but now i wish i hadn’t. would be a funny event to ‘cover.’ i could show up on a motorcycle with a chainsaw, like ‘meatloaf’ from ‘rocky horror picture show.’ like, a diamond-encrusted chainsaw. i’m not mad about high school. i don’t want to hurt anyone or use a chainsaw on anything. hm, no. too ‘loaded.’ too much potential to be misread.

  someone should bring a ‘baja style’ entourage to a high school reunion. like, 200 people in sexy outfits, and a DJ. like that club in level two of ‘max payne 3.’ brazilian, not baja. baja would be funny though, what is baja? it would be good to call your brazilian entourage ‘baja style.’ people would be like ‘what’ve you been up to for the last ten years’ and your eyes would roll back and become money signs and you would yell ‘BAJA STYLE!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’ and your entourage would lift you and carry you away.

  ten-year high school reunion crashers. owen wilson and vince vaughn pretending they’ve only been out of high school for ten years.

  ‘ten-year high school reunion crashers:’ a sobering, cautionary tale. directed by p.t. anderson. coming to a theater near you this fall.

  5:18PM: still in bedroom, finishing coffee. motivated to do something unexpected for liveblog, add variety to life. thought ‘what could i do after my errands’ and pictured myself with an open mouth, standing under a rock with water flowing off it, in the woods. other people would be there too. i think that’s a real place i’ve been, a fresh water spring in maryland somewhere, there has to be…

  seems impossible to not to do this now…

  STUFF I WANT TO DO BEFORE I TRY TO FIND THE ROCK WATER PLACE:

  • scan application/lease, get dad’s signature, scan, email to colin

  • call macmedics back

  • feed cats (can do after if it’s getting dark)

  STUFF I WANT TO DO AFTER I FIND ROCK WATER PLACE:

  • go back home, send emails, get packages ready for tomorrow

  • exercise in mom’s gym tonight. shit i need shoes. shit my dad thinks i’m staying at his hell vortex again and will be sad that i don’t want to and look disappointed. that’s no reason to stay at the hell vortex, to please a person. you’re not really pleasing them if you’re doing something you don’t want to do, for their benefit. it makes you resent them long-term.

  5:35-7:00pm: downloaded, printed and signed lease. Walked to kitchen to eat something while filling out copy of apartment application. Mom was reading on the couch. She said the water spring was real, it’s near our old house, she drove me there once, Vietnamese people were filling water jugs. I was little, I remember now. I pulled the skin around my eyes and said ‘me rike water, hong kong.’ mom laughed really hard, did not expect that.

  Microwaved a pizza slice. There was a knock at the door that neither of us wanted to get. A little later mom went downstairs and returned, holding a big cardboard box. I said ‘oh it’s my drugs, my drug shipment.’ she said ‘no no no!’ and swatted at me. I said ‘no i bet it’s our coconut oil’ and unpacked the box. I said ‘it is, it’s the coconut oil. Why is the box so big?’ mom said ‘I don’t know, I’ve noticed that recently…they’re using big boxes now, everywhere…everyone.’

  7:03pm: called dad to see if I could get his signature, left voicemail, started driving to his office. Listening to less than jake. Can tell I will associate this album with this time period in the future. Had previously associated it with senior year of high school.

  7:33pm: dad’s office lights were on but his car wasn’t there. Knocked on office door. Read email from Matthew donahoo.

  7:45pm: dad called, was getting a haircut when I arrived.

  8:07pm: made wrong turn. Have been listening to less than jake, singing along. Minimal thoughts.

  8:12pm: fake teeth security guard saluted me.

  8:32pm: gave each cat a nice hard petting. Fed them and cleaned box. Humped Alvie. Placed Shirley on top of Alvie. Brushed teeth, peed, ate eyedroppers of zeolite supplement. Just kidding. I didn’t hump Alvie. You thought I humped Alvie…you sick fuck…

  8:34pm: rubbed Alvie’s belly hard and said ‘feewf…feewf…you’re my wet boy.’ Shirley swatted his head and ran away. Now petting Shirley one-handed. These cats like to be rubbed so hard. You can swing them around on the floor and lift them by their tails. They seem to love it. Can’t believe they’re real.

  8:47pm: older woman with dog talked to fake teeth security guard at the gate. He gave me a pointer-finger salute. He was busy petting the dog. If you are petting a dog it’s more appropriate to salute with a few fingers. Save the whole-hand salute for when you’re alone and can fully focus on the salute.

  9:30pm: waited for dad outside his office. Did not bring phone. Walked to back room, where he was doing something on a computer. Told him I’m staying at mom’s tonight, to watch more ‘homeland�
� and go to the gym. He said there is a gym in his condo/neighborhood too. I said things about yoga while walking to the door. Hugged him and said ‘goodbye’ and he said ‘love yourself.’ I said ‘oh okay, you too, see you tomorrow’ or something. Yesterday when I left I said ‘this won’t be the last time we ever talk, I don’t know why I always think you want me to assure you of that.’ he said ‘I know it won’t be the last time,’ unconvincingly.

  10:01pm: taking the long way home to listen to less than jake and sing ‘me and bobby McGee’ more.

  10:15pm: it’s harder to think ‘i before e except after c’ than remember how words are spelled.

  10:17pm: pictured music video montage of my life (moments: sitting in car after Zachary phone call, my dad smoking weed alone last night, matthew donahoo’s face in front of email to me, me and Sam pink looking for my car in new york, me in car now) during emotional part of ‘the brightest bulb has burned out’ by less than jake, felt moved, didn’t realize this was a cliché-type image/situation until I typed.

  10:25pm: the most emotional part of the song is the bass. snickered typing that.

  10:28pm: the most emotional parts of the song are from 2:10-2:31 and 2:57-3:17. Emotional mostly because of lyrics…and bass…snickering…the bass isn’t totally synced or something…I can’t think about bass without thinking ‘dad’s basso voice’ or ‘thumpmaster Alvie’s high-gravity subwoofer.’

  10:38pm: smells so good outside, memory-encoded smells, the smell is making me emotional now also. spring smells like dying, like ‘you had your chance.’