felt sudden anxiety and mild stomach pain when my brain transmitted information that i had 'bypassed' reviewing previous posts on this blog and had opened an empty, ostensibly 'new' post with looming expectancy that i would somehow 'fill' this blank area with something

blogging is dead, i've come to understand mimetically, though not definitively, abstractly, really

i am still alive

i still enjoy cigarettes

i still enjoy 'unhealthy' [though paradoxically, it seems, life-continuing] food

i still care more about fashion than my family

i still don't [apparently] have any life-threatening diseases

i still have a distinct phobia of outdoor places and trees

i still do not know any women who seem 'worth' leaving this place [what some would consider the 'nest'] for

i still have a million projects that would be easy enough to delegate if i had ~$1,000,000, no desire to produce feature length 'hollywood quality' movies, and no student loans

i have no new desires

i keep looking at my phone and wondering when it will ring next though it's 4:33a.m.

i would do things on twitter if this didn't feel like it might become literary at some point


that felt good to do

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