Me, Va

(just now) Deleted P go, X, resolved to not go on r/, deleted google chrome (3:39 Am) because was tired of vaulting over the depthless space between browsers, deleted new and latest twitter account, some small and dull relief, then went to E’s I and EXT Gorm, had a mentally verbalized “miniature heart attack”, S, G, E + B on bill, an iterative newly traumatic and not even pointed or autonomous urge.. No intention… Typing is feeling more clarified and immediate and truer (though could be from the friction and “stoppingness” of BIC roundstick pen) than writing did earlier… no longer even feel any evil or transgressiveness from reddit or nucleic individuals, twitters, it all seems just kind of barely stimulating or dark and more just lightly lightly funny unpowerful and nothing (/3:39Am) (Returned to just now) and back to the kind of depression that feels totally meta/static and banal to even describe, evades description, (Wed mar 9 2022 4:01pm) in work I am reading now and feel incredibly drawn to but also despise on some level and feel like is not what I want my work to be, what I want writing to be, it feels un-lovely banal and ironic and sad, it makes me depressed for sure, at the same time I feel a sort of loose connection or un-connection coming from relating to things that come from feeling un-connected to others, relating to feeling unrelated and loose in the world, “lost in the world” Kanye west, like a naked ape clothed and then set outside among other apes, like I must cut myself down, but I have put that thought somehow on the back-burner when it was my main thought for weeks, and the arbiter of the anti-thought is I suspect engaged in the same behaviors she ridiculed in me but yet she ridiculed them and cut them out forcibly out of a goodness and love for me which I unable to see the bigger picture sometimes unempathize with and forcibly disengage w/, her, for a couple of days, talking about elements of the body as if they are detached from the self but also partial indicators or like facets or like bits projectors points of value about the self, attractive prospects about a purchase to be made, that disgusts me and yet I have that framework attached and billowing softly out from some certain deep-cut whorls of the brain for what seems like permanent time (/Wed mar 9 2022 4:01 pm) (Returning to just now) and lives in a constant kind of full body visceral fat or mucus barrier of "i am so depressed" "i am lost" (null) (null) (null) Helpless to time and immediate section of livable time as a kind of widthless and momentary band perpendicular and moving over the continuous passing ribbon of time past and time future as the present which is only a brief and stolid window opens and seems to depend totally on the amounts allocated to the bordering sections immediately before and after which result in an immanent and set and permanent unchangeable consequence

Future being that consequence, being the result of inaction or the wrong action or the incorrect allocation of time, "scheduling"; i was faced with the need for correct action today / yesterday and felt helpless against time, against impending end of visit home and return to "real life" real life being the game i play in unkind, recursive panic in new york, so rescheduled/removed/by removed i mean moved again this one band across the ribbon and created more current and unmarked time and seemingly pushed away the emergency of friendly upkeep (which true and weighty meeting with the Other seems to sliver into upkeep the more i am unable) that seems required immediately post-return/resumption/ rejoin

I have lost the power of rejoinder

I seem hidden from me or perhaps dead

Seems dramatic

When drinking is good it is an accretion of relief, of a sort of unclean and gaseous cushion back brain-ward

When it is bad it is a neutral and increasing but inactive surplus substance or not neutral and making me more nullified, or angry

Today (same day 3:- Pm) i have replaced "delegation" with "allocation" which is a better word, and have reread my old blog posts, and felt a phantom but convincing "proof" that i "used to be better at writing" that some kind of ruination has taken place and i am now awash, mean, suspended, in virginia which on the highway laterally imposed w/ 3-pronged capital one building new all truist banks and edelman Appian  i was thinking , I was raised in the cradle of all american evil

Cannot even tell if i am positively oriented. it seems that my pocket system may be obliterated, or wounded. all this atomized information and it remains in droplets unencoded outside of me and inaccessible to 

Me