My nuclear family was escaping some sort of BBQ/family reunion, it could also have been Berlin itself. But I remember sitting on the handlebars
of the bike as my mom peddled me up the hill, I felt light, calm, it was getting dark and my mom noticed a white van motionless at the top of the
hill, as though about to pull out onto the street. I turned around to her, she was starting to cry, 'there's the car,' 'what car?'
I tell her, 'everything will be fine, it's just a car' I laugh
The car starts and drive away.
My ex-roommate (J) is taking me up many steep steps within a white yurt. We reach the fourth floor and the stairway is now so steep that I
balk - I know that soon the room will start spinning. I don't tell J and keep climbing. My vision is blurring and I don't know how to move my feet,
I feel drunk suddenly, J is calling to me from far away, 'what's going on? do you need help getting down?' He tries to walk me down the steps,
the carpet is beige and long like in my grandparent's house. My eyes are opening, I can clearly see the wall of my room, the large MODERAT poster
partially covered by a wave of yellow flowers that is my comforter taking up the bottom half of my vision, I'm trying to walk down the steps but now I only see my room,
I realize that the yurt is a dream, but when I try to lift my body out of bed nothing happens.
Soon, my parents come to help me, but they are more like the two old people in the hut in the Princess Bride, very strange looking, bald yet
necks covered in silver hairs, and long ponytails. They stand at both edges of my bed and prepare medicines for me, 'I just want to leave the dream' I say.
They nod, unconcerned. I try to remember what I'll do in the real world that day, I try to move my fingers to the giant wave of yellow, to just nudge it would
be enough. 'I'm discombobulated' I think. I hear my phone buzz and I'm able to turn away from the poster and see my desk, the door, finally out,
It's messages from M, 'you're discombobulated'
he says. I look at my phone again, I'm know I'm really awake now, and the messages are gone.
ENTRY 1: April 15. 2024
It's been two weeks since I wrote on the blog. I actually changed this page to April and removed the March stuff on the first of April, but I didn't have time to
write an entry so I didn't Git-Commit, and now you've all been left with the March page all this time.
I'm so tired. I don't want to see anyone. I want to be left to my own devices. I'm working on canceling plans, right now I'm not very good at it. I say,
'lets try next week', then next week comes and I don't know what to do, because actually I want things to be like back when I lived in Lichtenberg
and I'd walk across the street to the coffee shop and talk with the nice lady there about her kids, and she didn't know but she was the only person I would
talk to that whole week, her and cashier who'd say 'Beleg dazu?' and maybe someone at a bank. But nobody who knew me.
All I wanted then was to have a friend, but now that I have friends I miss it. It felt like I was being scraped down the sidewalk every time something bad happened,
and when I was in my room the time was like an open window, or just endless really. I was always trying my best to get through the time,
the cut it back with my knife as it grew each second and became suffocating, but I'm sick of similes and I: have so much reality to
report on.
I went back home for 10 days, it was good. I'm starting a Bukowski book and I'm 1/3rd through a book about African dictatorships, I had my first day of
class today and canceled two plans and laid the groundwork for canceling two more tomorrow. I missed one of my finals last week and had to go to a doctor's
office to get a fake sick note. Today I couldn't register for the german class I wanted because my placement score was beginner german. I retook the placement
test and got a high enough score but by that time the class was already full. I went to an applied statistics course this morning at a new campus, it was fine.
I'm afraid of people, and I'm afraid of people leaving. I'm afraid of writing, and afraid of not writing. I got a tax extension.
Will Toledo writes, 'If you really want to know yourself, it will come at the price of knowing no one else'
'if you really want to make the change, then you would cut yourself off completely'
'if you really wanted to be kind, you'd have forgiven them a long ass time ago'
'if you really want to know how kind you are, just ask yourself why you're lying in bed alone.'
Thanks, Will, it's not that I want to cut myself off completely (because I do) but I won't, it's that I want time to process things again, and write again.
That's all, okay.