chop chop, paper chop slicing up papers all day long, human shredder, apocalyptic header, anxious all day long, self stimulation, to mitigate agitation, and quell the existential dread of having nothing meaningful to do do do… dangling in mid-air in a lovely house that’s on the verge of falling apart never…

I’m bummed… what can I say other than I miss my old cave I miss the quiet it afforded me and the sweet spacious privacy — it was nice not getting bothered ten times a day by distant tribesmen or getting pestered by the family unit… constantly… I’m sad… because for a brief moment…

I’m gonna be real with you, I miss the plains. I miss those people coming and going. There was something about the atmosphere and the feeling like you were sort of helping people, doing something useful. It was a substantial part of my life—an actual era, a time that will…

the scarecrow went to work today, perhaps to go and prove she still exists, so her coworkers could recognize her face, and so they wouldn’t just off her when the moment came, like the ancient hunter gatherers of the past, she gathers wool and various things, she cuts up paper…

it looks like I’ve tried to fit my life inside a smaller one… where the people here don’t know my strengths — they just don’t know what I’m all about… the songs are the same, and the games are all playable — minor comforts welcome me… but those bastards, they had the nerve…

it all feels so enclosed, so stifling, like I can’t get so much air and no one has much imagination around here, they’re all too stuck in the here and now, and on things you can touch, and yet, somehow still obsessed with decisions made only ten minutes ago… this near-past…

two bad fortunes in a row and even the cookies are against you Shirley Temple Christmas, a marathon of problematic films on the classic television network , peanut m&ms, the bag is family sized and almost finished… cold as a mother, bring your scarf and hat, don’t go out with wet…

in this place they got me in, the toilets don’t work so good, the flush is weak and it often runs, so the keeper of the house will sometimes shut off the flow and insist on all her residents flushing the thing by filling up a round basin sort of…

always on the move, we are always on the move just when a place starts feeling right, you are shaken, rocked from your calm place, jolted up and out and set forward on a new bullshit road to oblivion… I didn’t want to leave my cave — but some part…