I see everything I make with a glare, a disapproving look. Never the idea that something is not good enough. Good or bad doesn't matter. More so that it's not wanted, miserable, standing out like its worth a passing glance in spite. I think I'm trying to change that. Perhaps it's easier to hate a thing than to love it's imperfection. Even this series of letters, looking back on them, I feel wrong, like I was too stupid and was being too vulnerable to write anything worthwhile. Pang of narcissism.

Audio turned into an insanity loop. Had a real effect on me. Came from that vertigo, dissociation I felt a while ago. Reminded me of that, queasy reminder. Like the same time I see the Arkham building from the 5 freeway. Pit in the stomach, feels good almost. Feels like an edge. It's nice to feel an edge.



Visited Portland, sun almost everyday except a tinge of rain. Felt nice. LA is very bright. Flight back, layover in Oakland, took off over the bay and saw some ships. they seemed self-contained but lonely. I think I was projecting. Congested and during the flight I tried to swallow as much as possible. Or yawn. Didn't work. The pressure took a couple days to equalize. The first day back I only had vision, nose didn't work ears didn't work. Thankfully that cleared up. Was worried for a second.

I hope my clothes dry today, unfortunate timing of washing and putting out to dry just before the storm hit.

play with the dog ear, invite the dog ear, cultivate the dog ear.

too much information. None of it fills me up, though.

Last month I asked you to forward me every email I've ever sent to you. Nobody did this, but I was serious about it. If you feel like doing it, I would be into it.

I feel like an idiot - i bit the cap of my pen and it flew into the bartender's copper trough. I'm too embarrassed to ask anyone to find it. something so small and inconsequential - feels like the world is at stake. (2015)