get a brace you’ll feel better

art is killing me

It’s kind of amusing, I’ve been reduced to typing with a pen I’m holding. Imagine, I used to be able to type 50 WPM. I’m really starting to believe in that book I finished today (Voltaire’s Candide), with the premise that the world is unmerciful. To think, what amazing technology the future may invent, and here I will sit, with my destroyed wrists. Today is one of those days when I believe the world is just one big cruel joke with no punch line. I’m happy the issue came out in one piece, notwithstanding all the problems. I think my morality paper is due, but I haven’t finished the chapter…I’m moving into a weirdness, and I don’t know exactly what it is. I think my inner creature of the dark is resurfacing…I am being drawn to thrift stores in search of black vintage dinner jackets, antique teapots, and brandy decanters. I saw a mouse twice today, they’ve invaded our house, mostly because of my dad’s unsanitary habits regarding the trash. “They come every year,” he says. Gosh, maybe your huge pile of trash in the field has something the fuck to do with it. Stupid people piss me off. Well, I can’t think of much else to complain about, and my calculations put my sleep for tomorrow at exactly four hours and forty-six minutes, if I get to sleep in three minutes. Well, I can always hope the sun explodes.