WHAT

whattttt. i ACTUALLY just walked in on gabe and vlad fucking.
(amid considerations of deterritorialization and newagery and deep beats and bodyrhythms)
i saw--gabe was on top and vlad looking quietly thrilled and when i supportively shrieked "what!"
gabe ran away
leaving vlad's asshole a little lonely (sorry vlad)
and the room smelling of farts, cigarettes, and furry lovemaking

2:18a.m. moments at the bäo. priceless.
oh, gabe's here to talk about it. can cat tails wag? cause i think he's interested

In-class, internetical conversation between T'mo and Toast

T'mo: i feel like i can't use words in this room

for fear of offending people

Edoobs: same, i hate it here

my mood is instantly worse

i hate everything

life sucks

ive never felt so sad and lonely

i am completely drunk

my veins are filled with heroin

i can hardly see straight

but strangely my spelling is largely unaffected

my hearing is shot

my eyes are filled with pus, i dont know why

1:47 PM i forgot an apostrophe in the contraction above, i think it's because i'm so drunk and obliteratedly high

everyone looks like chicken thighs to me

i forgot to look at the coupon booklet for the local cvs this morning

my grandmother will never forgive the extra cents i will spend on my afternoon gatorade which she will count when i get home

after counting all of those wasted cents

she will detract all of them from my marshmellow allotment in my hot cocoa

1:48 PM which she makes from a box of packets she bought in paris during WWII

which is secretly a douch-ing kit

but i've never had the heart to tell her

people simply thouhgt that douch-ing was improved by the use of cocoa in WWII

me: you are making a fool of me right now

Edoobs: this statement has been proven false numerous times and it's appalling that she still thinks so

i can't shit but i can pee freely, an unexpected turn of bowel events

1:49 PM the clouds are closing in

the sun is dying

this is both metaphorically and literally true

when it dies, which can only seem likely to happen in my lifetime, today or later this week

i will be sad, and literally, dead

1:50 PM this turn of events will come, probably suddenly, but with open arms from my end

because im so depressed and blindly and deafly drunk and hig

h

i have lost my will to live anyhow and have decided, until my imminent death

to pursue a major in human development

which i find ironic because i've made up my mind that no human develops, only wallows further in the great mire of human turds and elephant shit

1:51 PM i have no strange or specific love for elephant shit, it is simply the nature of reality

pure and squarely simple

i've called out for help but grandma stifles my cries with exotic fruits she hurls at me with a water balloon launcher, an appartus she bought on sale and often reminds me of

my ability to type slows, the darkness descends

i ask jesus to pull my plug from the great cosmic machine to which it is attached

1:52 PM he grins and with a jowly and somehow jaundiced drool tells me assuredly that he will not help

i died.

1:53 PM T'mo: el oh el

Becoming ten foggy plateaus

Bod-mod day (yesterday). Four piercings, a button tattoo, scissors, peroxide. A total of six deflowering holes. (Elliot met a seven foot tall black bear, wrestled with it, and extracted the leaves and sticks from its asshole that it uses to keep out bugs while hibernating). Deflowering. A claim that your body is your own as well as an alienation from it, as the metal instantaneously crunches through cartilage. You become yourself at the same time as yourself becomes something else. Infiltration.

If I were to tattoo myself I would want a swarm of cicadas and/or bees set to engulf my back. I want to stop identifying with discrete people, images, and symbols and instead become part of a swarm. Become infiltrated by a swarm. All we see of a cicada is it reproducing and dying, becoming something else. Death, birth, drugs, music and drag (sometimes), castration? (think of the castrati's voices!), how else do we become?