n'est pas

ok I wrote this last night but the internet was being difficult so I'm just now being "allowed" to post it oh thank you gods of the superhighway...

Blogs are the stenographers- OF THE FUTURE. And you might say well yes but isn't the future now?
Blogs are the stenographers of the future- AND THE FUTURE IS NOW.

Nothing ever happens and I am going to write about the nothing that happened today:
Today I talked in the direction of my office phone to creative director Kyle in LA, it was mid-afternoon, fifteen minutes after traffic called to tell me we would be conferencing with LA in fifteen minutes. Creative director Kyle was eating breakfast with an LA-specific background din, wound up energy on slow-motion film, I guess that's what happens when a city gets better weather than it deserves.
I now have approved headlines with the following words in them: gelatinous, awesomnity, wizard.

Today Kevin asked the parmesan cheese shaker why it wasn't at the convention with the other shakers, with the spring-operated napkin dispensers and the pepper flakes that fly from pizza to pizza with little regard for other toppings.
Today I arranged and rearranged hundreds of tiny hairpins resulting in some sort of mess swept to the top of my head and now I am happy with it but I will change it in another hour I am sure. I want to order food. I don't think any of the food I want is available after ten. I need to sort this out before proceeding.

Today I went to Teaspace. It seems I can't go to Teaspace without spending under twenty dollars. Twenty dollars for one takeout meal no alcohol, that is insane, I'm supposed to be on some sort of budget that's insane, why is vegan food insanely expensive, this insanity is why veganism never stuck. Oh well at least I'm eating and tofu "treasure balls" at that good lord this is some food. The things they can do with a soybean these days, I am impressed.
Today Pretty in Pink is on one of my five stations and that designing woman just said "since I spent the night tied up in the back of your car!" Maybe if james spader went to my high school, maybe then high school would be worth mentioning. Nothing to say about it, nothing to say about high school and I'm damn glad because there's nothing about those years that I want to live in. Not seventeen or eighteen or even those savedbythebellthecollegeyears twenty or twenty-one- I thought it must be all downhill after twenty-one but yeah that's bullshit too because I'm twenty-five and I feel better, I feel fine. Ok and here's one reason why: I thought when I was eighteen I must be in love and this is it when I was twenty I must be in love and this is it and now when I think I must be in love I also think and there are any number of tiny futures and any number of tangental lives to lead and surprise forks (sporks?) and any number of travel metaphors to take one step too far or one step not far enough and I am going to run electrons around the past. That grand romantic idea of soulmates relies on that grand romantic concept of destiny- it's all bullshit, the only thing real in life lies somewhere between random chance and genetics.
(There are two R.E.M. references in the above paragraph. One is obvious, one not so much. Find them.)

Today I gave a homeless man a marlboro from a pack of parliaments, he said "where are you going" and I said "home, I'm going home" and that moment became the last line of a movie because why are these streetlights gelled like floodlights and are these facades or will these stores open in the morning and isn't this air misplaced doesn't it belong in the second dimension, and the perpetual why carried past the moment, why should I think I am any better or any worse than where I am at any given second. Soak this in. I should write it on post-its, posted so that everywhere shouts yellow-loud "soak it in, yes". There you have it, my latest defense against the very bottom of my stomach where the knife punctures, the knife sending that erratic/exotic/alliterative/adjective sort of loneliness, yes, flood my feet, too overwhelming to run from and too tired to think into nothing.
And nothing I say is true, ideas change and die with cells.

Today I am consuming tapioca and ice through a straw, can you believe it!