by Megan Boyle
12:30pm: bought two 16oz sf red bulls and e-cigarette. Deli man said ‘I smoke this. I try em all. You like this one?’ I said ‘yeah. I like how the smoke doesn’t hurt.’ he looked at me and I waved my hand over my face and said ‘my eyes don’t hurt.’ he nodded like ‘of course, of course’ and said ‘oh yeah, the smoke don’t hurt.’
12:34pm: sitting in car to garner air conditioning for a minute. No ticket. Have to poop kind of.
12:38pm: affectionately thought of myself as ‘clumbering lummox.’ Chugging red bull and going to library to update this.
12:48pm: exited car. Have to poop badly. Ate remaining 20mg xr adderall because why not. Looking very ‘this is the third day in a row of this dress’ and ‘unwashed.’ found mascara in armrest and put it on. Kind of used it like eyeliner, dotting a line and blending black smudges. I feel happier walking around here than my neighborhood but I think it’s just because the library is so big and nice.
12:54pm: calm assertive body guard-type man in tight t-shirt gave a ‘whoa buddy, please slow down’ arm gesture to a slowing and stopping van and I did the same thing way after it was appropriate for me to cross the street or for the man to still be stopped. Felt like ‘Chimley, lord of the devilish pranking street elves.’
12:58pm: pooping big time stanky. Using the handicapped stall, which has a broken lock. Lady is next to me. While walking to poop locker started going on mental tangent about ‘Chimley,’ like…‘the distressing discovery that one is, in fact, a Chimley’ and ‘widespread undiagnosed Chimley symptoms in the population, not to be ignored.’
What if there was a hell where the door was just barely locked. You could just always almost lock it, or when it sort of locks you don’t feel confident it’ll stay locked if you don’t constantly stare at/tend to it.
Little girl is saying (typing as it happens): ‘mommy can you flush it for me? It’s so loud. Mommy when you flush it I feel it in my ears. You don’t understand. It’s so loud. Thank you mommy. Am I finished? Now you flush. I don’t want to hear it. Mommy does it bite? Whoa. It’s so big. Okay? Okay? The phone is ringing. Do you like it? Can I flush it? Do I press it?’
2:13PM: have been answering backlog of ask.fm questions. again. there was a period where these men were near me and it was irritating…they were like…i don’t know. just…hovering. looking around with ‘thought-heated eyeballs’ at a hovering pace. heated eyeball hovering. one of them was across from me. he kept leaving and coming back and looking up from his computer to scan the room. i was typing hard for a while and forgot about him. heard a voice say ‘is that bacteria?’ looked up from typing and he was looking at my arm. i said ‘no, it’s a rocket.’ he pointed lower and said ‘no, that one. is that bacteria?’ i said ‘no, it’s the moon.’ he said ‘what?’ i said ‘moon. it’s the moon.’ he said ‘ah. a rocket going to the moon.’ i nodded and pretended to continue typing. he said ‘and now, what are all the ones on the other arm, the left arm?’ i said ‘just…a lot of stuff.’ i was smiling and trying to be nice. he said ‘like what? it’s very colorful and pretty.’ i said ‘it’s just a lot of stuff.’ resumed fake-typing. he said ‘does it have any meaning, to you?’ i said ‘no, not really. just stuff. stuff i like.’ continued fake-typing. he said ‘it’s very colorful.’
MY HEAD WAS SCREAMING TYPING THIS, REMEMBERING THIS.
used bathroom. have been sitting outside at a table to avoid man and garner sunlight. haven’t heard from zachery yet.
2:45PM: composed flaking text. goddamnit. can’t not flake. can’t not. cleaned out purse. can’t find e-cigarette. i’m sitting at a wire table under a large umbrella. it looks like spain or somewhere european out here. a man in a yarmulke walked up to the man at the table across from me and said ‘erin? hello? is that you?’ got scared it was a ‘rampant ‘taipei’ fan.’ the seated man did not seem to know the yarmulke man, who was talking at length to him about a ‘new media social networking platform.’ the sitting man responded minimally. the yarmulke man may’ve said ‘hey man’ and not ‘erin.’ after a maybe two-minute uninterrupted monologue about the social networking thing, the yarmulke man said ‘good talking to you brother, glad to make a contact.’
2:53PM: zachery replied with mutual flake text. made plans to do bing.com safari next week. ate 60mg vyvanse. might feel worse tomorrow, having eaten this now. shit. don’t think about tomorrow. i’m not rationing well, my tolerance is down. this is shitty. i don’t want to do this. it’s all just so i don’t feel as shitty right now. i feel shitty because of alcohol and ambien and hydrocodone from last night, maybe. my brain just needs to recover. i’m not giving it time. too late to. shit. too late. i’ll just learn, this is what learning is.
3:07PM: the sitting man who was bothered by the yarmulke man now sitting in front of a salad. i can smell it a little. he’s looking around peacefully, exuding ‘i respect the aloneness of everything and of myself, i don’t want anything from the world that’s not already given to me, i am entitled to nothing.’
3:09PM: two women just sat at table, completing ‘triangle of tables between unentitled alone man and me.’ one woman is saying (typing as she says): ‘my blood pressure is high. from the subway. i’m lightheaded, you know. i need to sit down and eat a sandwich. it’s from the subway. i don’t do well in [inaudible]. no. it’s hot [laugh]. i don’t do great in the heat. stay in the shade. i never just sit on the beach, i never just sit in the sun—never! well i never did but i certainly don’t now. [inaudible] for-ev-er. and then i’ll come out the water, i’ll sit under an umbrella and read a book! i’m not a beach person. lie in the shade. right. i don’t know about just lying there in the sun. dumb. just dumb. first of all, it’s your skin.’ she has quieted down. the other person sometimes encourages her malignant talking force with an inaudible question. perhaps the other person is worse than the woman. why do i hate everyone right now. hating everything. hate. shit. hating hard. ‘you know, i’m dressed much cooler than you. you and my sister. you and my sister. it’s not good. yeah. you know if you don’t sweat it means your heart’s not right. if you sweat it means your heart’s not as efficient. it’s not working as well. that’s terrific. that’s terrific! you go three times in a row? i must go [inaudible], i must. that’s great. oh it’s up[inaudible]? i have to make a commitment.’
nevermind i like her. i’m enjoying hating her. she is allowing my head to be occupied with typing her voice. she is okay. the only okay person. forcing herself…like…i don’t even have to think about how to describe her, she’s so strong. she’s just talking. all i have to do is type what she’s saying. i had to describe the sitting man. his demeanor. the woman is just going ‘yamyamyamyamyam.’
3:22PM: cop has circled shark-like behind me maybe five times. very ‘shark’ of him, to do this. sun-hating woman and her inaudible friend took their traveling sideshow elsewhere. the exclusive street theater production of ‘waiting for godot.’ i was the only audience member. they meant it to be that way, this was all planned. now you’re part of the audience too. this is progressive. i feel 100%…that this is what i like about art…or if there’s a thing called art, it would be the scenario i just described, which now involves you. or. actually i don’t know anything about art, don’t listen to me. people are setting up instruments near the library entrance. unentitled sitting man who was bothered by yarmulke man has been replaced with ‘bearded-yet-scabby-faced college student.’ he has re-arranged his chair…it’s like we’ve been seated facing each other, at separate tables. i can feel him smiling and looking around dopily but i’m not bothered, because he’s…like. i’m laughing. he is my scallywag. a girl approached and he said ‘i was s-ooo productive in there, yeah right!’ i love him. my scallywag. it’s 4:21PM. the instrument people are playing something loud and jazzy. it’s. i can’t take it. not going to last much longer. farewell, my scabby scallywag. my beloved partner in crime. my one and only bumbershoot. shh. shhhhhh. i feel vyvanse, this was brought to you by vyvanse, you have just been subjec
ted to a new kind of subversive advertising technique sponsored by vyvanse.
4:28PM: walked to library entrance, carrying macbook with opened lid and still-attached earphones. ‘tossed’ earphones over my shoulder as i opened the door. thought ‘something about this is like a clumsy sidekick scenario. it looks like the macbook is my clumsy sidekick who i’m always dragging around but actually it’s in charge, i’m the sidekick.’ saw sharky cop preparing to make eye contact with me and initiated counter-offensive ‘look important by dimming screen until it’s blank’ maneuver. closing the lid would’ve admitted defeat. like if the cop saw me doing that and i saw him seeing me do that, we’d both know i was a shifty lawbreaker up to no good.
4:58PM: opened bathroom door and stood behind two women in line. closed macbook lid and stowed in bag. this is how it happened:
first woman in line: [cautiously opens handicapped stall door]
woman in handicapped stall: excuse me! what you think you’re doing opening my, someone’s—
first woman: sorry, sorry, the door was open, you didn’t lock it
handicapped stall: the. lock. is. bro-ken. how do you not check, how do you not see i’m
first woman: and how’m i sposed to know if a fuckin door is broken or not? i’m not lookin around everywhere for your stuff, calm down, how’m i sposed to
handicapped stall: and how do you think it feels to be me, huh? [toilet flushes] getting walked in on, getting a door opened on me?
[third woman emerges from non-handicapped stall]
first woman: oh my god. it’s not that serious, all that happened was i didn’t see you in there, it’s not that ser-i-ous, you actin’ like it’s all
handicapped stall: no! this is serious because of you, because here you are say all of this when if you just said ‘i’m sorry, i’m so sorry to walk in on you’
first woman: i said i’m sorry, oh my god [walks to non-handicapped stall]
handicapped stall: excuse me but no you did not!
first woman: oh my god yes i did why can’t this be over already?
handicapped stall: ‘cause you started it, you started this, otherwise we wouldn’t be talking now would we, this can be over and we can be smiling anytime, i didn’t start this
first woman: OH
[quiet for a few moments, then skinny model-looking woman emerges from handicapped stall and avoids eye contact with woman in front of me in line, me, new woman behind me. woman in front of me walks into handicapped stall and someone exits middle stall and i walk in to that one to pee]
first woman: i can’t believe that. she mad. she flippin’ out, thinkin’ it’s my job to check if her shit’s on the floor before i do, i don’t even know
new woman: [says something supportive that i forget. someone said ‘princess’ i think. new woman and first woman say a few things back and forth, then it’s quiet]
me: [from stall] she was out of line, i thought
first woman: i know! she walkin’ around actin’ like that, thinkin’ she can get away with whatever [door opens and closes]
me: [flushes toilet, walks to sink] out of line…
new woman: [exchanges eye contact/grins with me in mirror, walks to handicapped stall] and look what she left on the floor, what is all this toilet paper, what is this. this nasty.
me: i know, nasty
5:58pm: library closed. Walked outside and put bag on a table to look for phone and e-cigarette. Man with uncomfortably simultaneous soft and masculine affect approached me from behind. Sensed him there before I saw or heard him. He said ‘miss? Scuse me, miss?’ Shook my head ‘no’ and winced as I said ‘hi’ and walked away fast.
5:59pm: angelic-looking teen approached on my left, said ‘scuse me, m’am? Your skirt’s up a little, in the back.’ touched dress and pulled it down and said ‘oh boy, thank you’ in Jim Carrey voice, aware of how my urge to disguise embarrassment was stronger than maybe non-existent embarrassed feelings.
6:12pm: sitting in car. Going to drive home now. Going to feel bad maybe. No I feel okay. Pulled on my dress a lot on the walk to the car.
7:19pm: parked. Do I want to go to pickles & pies now to get e-cigarette cartridge refills and energy drinks. What I want to do tonight. Man in a wheelchair pushed himself backwards with one foot. He took up the whole street. The whole middle, where cars go. Backwards.
7:25pm: still in car. Looked at instagram and felt paranoid and inadequate.
8:24PM: went to pickles & pies. got the stuff. walked to building thinking ‘unable to be surprised…unable to be surprised [something]. wait that’s not true. i wrote that i was surprised to hear [omitted] say something, i think. i wasn’t really surprised though, there’s just not another word for it. what was it that he said? maybe i was surprised. i’m simultaneously extremely able to be surprised and…the opposite of that.’
remembered being on mushrooms and walking towards my building with zachery however many weeks ago that was and saying ‘hold on: i just felt like, how is this…this is where i live now? a few days ago i was at mom’s. i live here. wait,’ and him kind of like, vocally nodding, encouraging me to say more but i didn’t know how.
remembered the retired MTA wheelchair man from colin’s ‘welcome to the building’ dinner and saying i’d bring him smoothies. i haven’t done it yet. i probably won’t. vault containing semi-explored friendlier, selfless, extroverted version of myself sealing off. it feels like an actual sucking. i’m sucking something out.
it smelled like the ocean a lot.
watched a black SUV cavalierly reverse itself into garage of my building.
passed dumpster and remembered the fucking…mattress…still in my room.
inserted keys in second glass door and was stopped when a man exiting from the inside opened it. i said ‘thanks’ and smiled. the elevator was on the third floor. thought ‘am i going to wait to go on the elevator with him: no.’
back/garage door opened and mark walked in the building.
i said ‘hi mark.’
mark said ‘hey megan. what’s happening.’
something about his face fucked me up. he was looking at me like ‘there has been a conference about what we should do with you. we have decided that action needs to be taken but you’re safe for now. you are on probation.’
i said ‘oh you know, just, you know. getting in. tired, i mean. i am. so, you know’ heard mark say something to the elevator man and stair door close behind me.
oof
a real shiner…left a real shiner, that one.
remembered something about last night. starting foresee problems about myself. think they’re correctable. i’d feel better if i changed some things. this is all self-imposed. maybe. actually am probably just saying that to convince myself i’m stronger and less impressionable.
fed cats, cleaned litter box, took out trash, made bed, organized piles of things and cleaned surfaces, all very fast. scooted around the floor on my knees with a hand-sweeper, saying ‘oh my god’ and ‘shit’ quietly.
something had escalated by the time i got to the bathroom and i was sweeping and saying ‘oh shit, oh shit, oh shit’ and stopped to sit on the edge of bathtub.
the inside of the bathtub is dirty.
i was looking at it and thinking about laundry and all the time between now and
shit
hyperventilating
actual
i’m going to stop right now
11:02PM: listening to ‘untitled 1’ by odd nosdam on repeat. i feel like i’m missing something, since i’ve been back at the apartment or maybe further back than that. not missing like ‘not including,’ missing like ‘a lack; an active absence; something i don’t remember losing but can feel the space it left.’
11:13PM: how is it so late.
JUNE 22, 2013
3:11AM: i’m not learning anything from the goddamned liveblog. i didn’t start it to learn anything. i don’t think. i lost focus again. simultaneously caring extremely much and extre
mely not at all about people liking me. at the 50/50 line about this. over time anyone/everyone will lose interest in me or die and there’s nothing i can do. i can just keep doing this, or doing it in other ways. it’s always going to feel like this. pulse is always going to sound like ‘here i am, again, again, again, again, again, (…)’
copying and pasting ‘again’ 1,000,000 times would have the same effect of 1,000,000 other words.
STUFF THAT IS DIFFERENT ABOUT ME RIGHT NOW THAN ON MARCH 17, 2013:
• three months five days older
• live alone
• weigh less
• longer (redder?) hair
• use e-cigarette
• have been given two lamps, other things
• more certain about how i like to communicate
• more…i don’t know. better memory. write more but maybe worse. more likely to doubt epiphanies/generalizations, maybe (haha)
• a little less interesting/less motivated/more depressed
• feel better overall i think/wanted to delete above thing as soon as i wrote it
• have given up on the possibilities for some things for myself (not bothered by/accept/resign to this, also open to being wrong about this/changing drastically/[other unforeseeable possibilities])
• larger digital record of me (other things like this)
• sleep less overall but have slept more hours overall (other things like this)
