by Megan Boyle
10:04pm: have been walking leisurely and…something. Mournful tone to walking. Feel like I’m moving underwater.
10:35pm: paid, did self-checkout. Walked to between-stores area where you can see the skyline. City separated by the bay. Thought about my position on a map. Island is three blocks wide. You can see the ocean and the bay at the same time if you stand in this between-stores area.
10:42pm: crossed street to avoid interacting with smoking-by-door ‘Megan fox’ belle harbor steak house man.
10:55pm: remembered I forgot cat food. Gave cats treats. Poured glass of wine and said ‘don’t worry, I’ll get it, I’ll be right back.’ Whatever I type sounds like I’m mocking myself. Depressed despite yoga today and Chelsea last night. Not really depressed. More guilty and calm…calmly resigning to…just…being me, the room I live in, memories, present circumstances, aging, all the people I’ve known, all the others. It’s almost July.
11:24pm: still haven’t left for cat food.
11:35pm: it’s raining. They don’t even like the wet food.
JUNE 26, 2013
6:11PM: going to yoga again.
JUNE 27, 2013
6:00AM: woke hungry. boiled ‘no carb’ pasta and heated leftover kale/eggplant/tomato sauce i made night before last. ate 1.5mg xanax.
3:25PM: woke from dream about japanese airline. intense ‘wish i was still there’ dreams past few nights. keep remembering as if they actually happened. like would think ‘oh yeah, that’s like when the security guard started kissing me, when was that’ then i’d realize it was just a dream and get sad.
ate bag of red grapes. drinking sugar-free red bull. listened to voicemail from dad. i said yesterday that i might be coming up today to get the air conditioner.
last night after yoga i sat on fire escape eating bowl of leftover kale/pasta.
watched an old man pushing a walker approach on the sidewalk to my building and eventually the ocean. he moved maybe a few inches per step, with long pauses between steps. his face was in a fixed position looking at the ground and his back was hunched. his shirt looked like it said ‘oberlin.’ he stopped for almost a minute by the alley. he turned his walker and started walking down the alley, where i’ve never seen people. got nervous he had seen me. could feel breeze on my ass as i ‘dove’ through window and onto bed.
read ‘a fan’s notes’ and texted with [omitted]. listened to alcoholic faith mission and angerbird and missed zachary. right now we would be sitting at the kitchen table playing cards, maybe, after dinner.
i’m going to maryland to get the air conditioner i guess. back tomorrow.
hanging out with chelsea saturday. excited.
3:54PM: ate 27mg concerta, noopept, b-vitamin. pooped. cleaned cat box. has only been two days in a row of yoga but body already looks different, maybe just to me. arms are more toned/flat on my body and legs are…more continuous lines…a little smaller…lol…stomach is also flatter/shows ribs and hip bones a little more. i want to weigh 115-120lbs. weighed myself the other morning at [omitted]’s apartment and was 134 but had eaten a lot the night before. mostly want to weigh 115-120 because i felt healthy and like…limber…i liked not-worrying about how i looked in clothes. there was less ‘tweaking.’ hot yoga feels good, like i die a little in each class. after each pose you stand or lay completely still, like not even wipe your sweat. it feels good to know i can make myself stand still while my heartrate is freaking out and i want to breathe hard and drink water and wipe sweat. feel ‘stronger.’ during ‘savasana’ (laying down) poses between the floor poses (floor part starts maybe 60 minutes into the class) i have zero thoughts, i think. i just pick a dot to look at on the ceiling. i don’t even need to blink because the air is so wet and hot and thick. it’s like i’m in an eyeball. zero thoughts. feels so good. getting to have zero thoughts while your body feels attached to you…it feels ‘loving’ or something. a loving kind of discipline that’s new to me, to experience.
4:21PM: statcounter in real life would just be staring at each other. walking down a street where sometimes you’re the most ‘stared at’ person. sometimes people would stare at you for like, hours.
5:45PM: bought bag for old mattress at hardware store. the fucking. the mattress is out of here. it’s about to be out of here. sweating a lot. while walking back from hardware store was smelled enthusiastically by two small dogs attached to leashes held by a girl.
6:22PM: now it is gone. i dragged it out to a dumpster. woman seated on a fold-out chair said ‘you’n puttin’ that out by there.’ thought she might be a ‘mattress authority.’ i said ‘yeah i’m just dumping it…over. here. mark said i could.’ she said something hard to hear and laughed. i said ‘oh yeah!’ i tied the ends of the yellow bag and started back to the building. smiled at her and said ‘hoo.’ she was smilling. we said ‘have a good night’ at almost the same time. what she said sounded more like ‘now that’s it’s good evenin’s.’
6:23-11:59PM: did not update.
JUNE 28, 2013
did not update.
JUNE 29, 2013
did not update.
JULY 1, 2013
10:00AM: woke, saw clock.
12:06PM: woke, saw clock.
2:[something]–5:11PM: woke. swept apartment. pooped twice. ate 54mg concerta. drank two 8.4oz sugar-free red bulls, water. texted with danny landlord. talked with dad on googletalk via not-working phone. organized screenshots chelsea sent from june 29/30. i haven’t laughed as hard as i have with chelsea these past two times than any other time in recent memory, it’s like constant laughing…belly laughing.
5:13PM: i’ve been updating/writing pretty consistently since whenever i last updated but am undecided about including the actual text for reasons i don’t feel like explaining. i’ll know whether i want to include the actual text or not in a few days, i think.
QUICK SUMMARY OF EVENTS FROM LAST UPDATE UNTIL NOW: i drove to maryland, arrived at mom’s and talked for maybe three hours, slept, talked more with mom, drove to dad’s office to get storage unit keys, got air conditioner from storage unit, went to walgreens, drove back to apartment/arrived around 11PM, mark was at the door with a hand truck and offered to install air conditioner for me, i stayed awake until maybe 7AM and smoked pot and painted nails, ate 1mg xanax, slept, woke around 3-4PM (june 29), went to two delis and a liquor store, drove to chelsea’s, chelsea made vegetable curry and we drank wine and put on ‘trying to look like we’re not trying too hard to look good’ make-up and outfits, we went to three (i think) bars in greenpoint and sent funny messages to strangers on tinder and laughed a lot, got bottle of wine ‘to go’ at bar called diamond, i held onto metal bars gating an outdoor seating area and screamed at people sitting outside then chelsea and me stood and smoked e-cigarettes for a while and i convinced her to walked back to the area where i screamed to stare catatonically at the people, and we did…no one seemed to notice…laughing now…damn going to save details for later…continued to walk to a bar near chelsea and screamed ‘DAD’ at other people in an apartment, we were yelling ‘where are you dad’ and ‘i need you dad’ and ‘dad we need to talk’ and things like that on the way to the last bar, some guy stopped his car to ask me about my tattoos and i yelled something like ‘my dad did them, are you my dad, i miss you dad,’ asked bartenders if they’d play ‘drops of jupiter’ by train (inside joke-type song…goddamnit will write more details later) and we sang along and were laughing and all the other bar patrons left almost immediately, something happened that i’m not sure how i want to write about yet, chelsea made a box of pasta in the morning and we ate it and laughed a lot, chelsea’s ex-boyfriend came over, i dropped chelsea off at a bar called commodore, drove back home, read ‘frowns need friends too’ and liked it a lot/remember thinking ‘i can see some people reading some parts and having those parts wash over/confuse them but i think i understand what he means and if so then shit…creative…good way to say that,’ watched episode of ‘the office’ where they go to chillis fo
r the dundies and got goosebumps at the end, set alarm for 9:46PM, woke around 11PM, texted chelsea, ate 2mg xanax, watched two more episodes of ‘the office.’
6:54PM: danny landlord texted again. can smell my sweatiness. yoga starts 8PM. might make it back in time. going to dress in yoga clothes and get the hell out.
7:18pm: made eye contract and smiled with young man wearing earphones repeating ‘nigga I ain’t worried bout nothin’ on street. In car now.
7:22pm: texted ‘on the way see ya soon,’ started driving, a Judd apatow-like period of comic timing passed, Danny texted ‘Ok’ and phone buzzed/vibrated twice like it was saying ‘o’ then ‘k.’
7:48pm: parked on 88th st.
7:51pm: standing on corner of 86th and 5th, texting with Danny. Told him where I was. He said ‘ok’ then ‘I came there now.’ I said ‘great, I’m on the corner by citibank.’
8:16pm: Danny wanted to get a drink with me. I said ‘I’m going to yoga, next time.’ he said ‘next time’ and walked beside me. We said ‘how’s it going’ twice. He veered off to peek into a bar and said ‘we get a drink now, come.’ I said ‘no I really have to go, I told myself I’d go.’ I understood maybe 30% of what he was saying as we walked to my car. He asked what kind of engine it had. I said ‘regular, I think.’ he said ‘v-four? V-six?’ I waited a moment and said ‘v-four.’ He nodded and said something about gas. There was a time when we were standing by my car and he was saying something about carrying things in a van…there was a better alternative to the van, it seemed. I nodded and tried to exude ‘I understand that there is a better alternative to the van.’
9:43pm: sitting in car after yoga sweating ass off Jesus foggy window heart is still going Jesus.
10:44pm: texted with Chelsea and [omitted] while sitting in parked car. Had tentative but unlikely plans to hang out with [omitted] tonight and he confirmed unlikelihood. Graphic uncensored depiction of not feeling disappointed but still feeling interested. Graphic. Unruly. Out of control supportive calm feelings. Driving to Chelsea’s now to shower and drink beer. Spontaneous ass hangout. ‘Like what normal people do,’ I thought.
JULY 2, 2013
5:42am: driving back from Chelsea’s. She let me borrow her glasses, they are helpful. Laughed typing that. She also let me borrow a shirt and bra and underwear and her ex-boyfriend’s christmas-themed ‘house shorts’ to wear instead of soggy yoga clothes. We sat at her dining room table and talked about the other night and…a lot…talked the whole time, from I guess around 11pm to now. Went to buy e-cigarettes and more beer and walk her dog around 1am. She made pasta with mushrooms and green peppers and I bought garlic hummus and pita chips. So happy Chelsea is in my life again. I’ve thought about her so much since 2010 or 2011 or whenever we ‘stopped’ being in each other’s lives. She’s been like, a beacon…like…‘hold on, it’s bad now but maybe you’ll see Chelsea again someday.’ People are always asking ‘what’s your favorite [anything]’ and I never know the answer but Chelsea is my favorite person. I’m not saying that to alienate anyone. Every time I sit down to write about Chelsea I immediately want to say something like ‘if you fuck with Chelsea in any way, I will seek you out and punish you.’ Dog for life. At 4:15am I made a new ‘note’ in my phone that says ‘nan madol.’ it’s an island she showed me. There are no people on the island. It’s all ruins, ruined buildings. Wikipedia says it was used for ‘mortuary activities.’ one of us said ‘what’s a mortuary activity.’ Chelsea said something about ‘weekend at Bernie’s’ and wanting her corpse to be taken to nan madol where people can party with it. Chelsea said I could sleep over but I knew if didn’t wake in my bed I would want to shirk liveblog/other obligations and prolong having fun. On cross bay blvd now. I should’ve stayed over and prolonged fun. I do ‘shit of life’ to-do list things thinking ‘once this is out of the way, I’ll be happier.’
6:29am: parked. Walking to apartment. Ate 2mg Xanax a few minutes ago. Listened to noemotion on drive back. Girl just opened door to stairs I’m now climbing. She looked professional and normal and smiled at me and said good morning. Unsure if she saw me for long enough to understand silliness of my outfit/accessories in contrast to her outfit/accessories.
6:36am: fed cats, cleaned box, peed. Stood at sink and thought about twitter. Seems like everyone is trapped in some building. Like. Trapped. How do I say this. People say interesting things about boredom but don’t say the boring things they’re actually doing, like ‘fed cats, cleaned box, peed.’ Should I be a flight attendant.
7:33am: typing on phone feels less serious. Xanax is working. Getting sleepy. Also hungry again. Gonna eat on these fuxking pita chips and hummus and wake with a hummus container on the floor.
7:34AM–11:59PM: did not update.
JULY 3, 2013
did not update.
JULY 4, 2013
12:05AM: last night i talked into computer camera for six hours 28 minutes and i’ve been transcribing the video close to non-stop since maybe 5AM. this feels sick. i like feeling focused on doing it but…interacting with the content…of it…in this way…i feel like i’m in hell, this is hell. getting to hell has something to do with the duration of…gradual sinking in of it…like hell sinks into you over time without you noticing, part of what makes it hell is knowing you let it happen. at first talking/transcription idea felt like an exciting ending or advancement to liveblog and then it was all i was doing and now it’s now. sometime this morning i was thinking things like ‘this is all i want to say, for anything, i don’t have to say anything ever again, now everyone will know’ and ‘here is a new kind of novel where you can watch a video of every moment a word appeared in the author’s head, you can know more about how it happened, text and video at the same time, maybe people can study it and find out where thoughts come from or something about time-travel.’ previous sentence seems dark. like, very dark sensation comes with re-reading anything from the perspective of knowing what i now know about…i’m afraid to type ‘myself,’ i was trying to find another way to type it for like four minutes. it’s going to help me to type this, after i type this i can think at least one person will have read it and imagined it like they were me imagining it and i don’t know why that’s comforting: i feel like every few seconds i’m waking for the first time in a jail cell and a cop approaches me and says ‘last night you were involved in a car accident. you are the only survivor. you were driving and you were drunk. your parents and everyone you could’ve loved more were the passengers. your punishment is to live for 5000 years’ and it’s the same cop every time. waking every few seconds for the first time but it’s the same thing every time. are other people…could other people do what i’ve been doing today and feel good? if this made people feel good they’d just do it naturally. think it takes me longer to realize when something feels good or bad. like i can do something that feels bad for a long time and not know it feels bad until way after most people ‘get it.’ also applies to good things. i don’t fully know how good something felt until the next day or later. this is embarrassing. embarrassing horrific display of a person. i’m talking about what i did today and liveblog and me. horrific permanent display of ‘look at me showing myself to you’ and ‘can you get me out of here.’ think this is a good time to stop.
5:49AM: i’m cracking myself up still. partying with gmail drafts. relocate your party to gmail drafts: cuts costs (on something, probably!), password-protected (it’s not a party if anyone else but you is invited!), reliability (great way to familiarize yourself with looking at your gmail draft screen!)
have been typing this in a draft to no one:
what if someone said this like a rap saying, it was a rap thing:
where are you right now
HEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPP
dumplings (code name for puffy part of nipple)
dumplins (code name for the smaller dots on dumplings)
gumplin turkey (code name for nipple head on a dumpling)
that’s a really big be
ar! (that’s a really big bear!) that’s a really big bear! (that’s a really big bear!) (would be a call-and-response with those whistles that…shit. i don’t know what they’re called. when i picture the sort of man-shaped giant things made of windbreaker material that shrink and grow and flap around in the wind—they’re usually outside of like, mattress discounters, or like, brazilian parties—these whistles i associate with those things are in the background)
comcast bundle saves you more
800-588-2300: empire
sheeps (code name for semen)
i like some water /i like some meat / my cat’s feet get loud when i sleep / oh no sheeps sheeps sheeps sheeps sheeps / oh no sheeps sheeps sheeps sheeps
frodo (just something people call out sometimes)
bumpy fish (code name for…i want to say ‘bumpy fish.’ ‘bumpy fish’ is a code name for bumpy fish. and maybe that’s all you need to know)
(not a thing people would say but what if a whole rap crew repped jerry stiller extremely hard, like. to the point that jerry stiller gets restraining orders against them. they make a song called ‘i’m sorry jerry’ on album titled ‘what jerry likes’)
6:33AM: laying on bed with earphones in to block out air conditioner and cat noises. crumbs in the bed. sheet is bundled…how do i describe the thing i don’t like about sheets…hm. it got to be this way from the motion of my body over time. it is fully untucked from mattress. it is ‘free-floating,’ kind of, between fitted sheet and comforter. usually when you buy a sheet it’s folded and packaged in such a way that you can easily handle it during the trip from the sheet store to your house. then you unfold the sheet and shake it out and make it big…you give it a ‘wingspan.’ you spread out the sheet wingspan and tuck the bottom corners/edge under the mattress so it doesn’t move around much while you’re asleep. you do the tuck thing, i think—i do the tuck thing—to prevent my current sheet situation (free-floating bundle not spread to ‘wingspan’-capacity). you want the sheet to be as flat as possible. ‘flatness: it’s a sheet thing.’
