Monday, March 23, 2015

Once More

So here I am, alone in my bedroom after spring break. It is times like these that cause me to remember my surroundings, as I am suddenly and violently back in my world, my sad little world, of brick walls, plastic bags, hums, consoles, and silence.
I shouldn't have been so violent with the milk... I wasn't thinking. Now it leaks, much to my chagrin. I tossed it into the back of my brothers car, and it dented the container.
I'm not entirely sure why I suddenly feel like I need to write these things, why all of a sudden I need to speak to the internet like a god or a mother or a time capsule. "A fool does not delight in understanding, but only in revealing his own mind" (Proverbs 18:2) but also "He who finds a wife finds a good things and obtains favor from the Lord" (Proverbs 18:22). They are not related.
All I can think about is my poor milk, which cost me over three dollars. I wrapped the dent in transparent tape. I will drink it tomorrow, hoping I don't become sick. And so on unto the next day, each day being an increase in the risk and likely hood of sickness and regret. I wonder if my friends want to hurt me.
Steve Gainor and Jonathan Blow were talking about how they put themselves inside computers when they are coding, or in other words, their conscious selves, like they are absorbed by the coding process. Everyone does this, I imagine, but not necessarily with computers. Right now, as I am typing, I am reestablishing that symbiotic relationship with my surroundings, letting time and space and my Black Butler calendar flow through me until I do not have to look at them anymore because I am one with them. But for now I am a foreign agent shaken up by a familiar yet cold environment that I have to look at and feel the sudden urge to clean things. 

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