mise en abyme

the people who surround me have elected me their therapist. i do not want this role. i do not want to solve any other people's relationship problems. i barely understand my own. all i know is i'm supposed to be perfecting my karaoke skills.

sometimes language seeps through pores in the internet. the internet is a little like living twice. the two-for-one bin at your local big evil capitalistic corporation. the internet is neither a place nor an unplace. the internet is a pixelated limbo which i sometimes choose over breathing.

cyclical patterns of creation, complacency, disturbance, destruction, existential boredom, creation, repeat etcetera. is this what you're supposed to do? do you
do it because if you don't it's like not vomiting when vomiting will improve your condition by expectorating cheap wine and bad americanized curry? do you do it as a feeble attempt at procuring your immortality in a universe that busies itself with expansion and folding itself over and expanding some more like kneaded dough until it reaches an outer edge of a consciousness nothing alive can see and begins collapsing back in on itself all the while disregarding you and covering its ears repeating la la la? (the universe is an asshole)

ikiru was good. seventh seal good. there is a scene with a park swing. the camerawork in that scene and all the other scenes was done in 1952. i had to keep reminding myself of that.

i had an IM conversation with someone about different ways to cook and eat babies

i am vaguely curious about going to litquake this year

i am in the business of making abysses.

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