Some sticky notes:
His cat was watching us fuck. The guy couldn't bear it, laughed uncontrollably. He was embarrassed, ashamed. We stopped. "Kitty"...what a stupid name for a cat, and not because of it's lack of imagination, but because that was the point.
It took me a while to realize that I, myself, am on the fringes too.
Do people faint from the site of blood because of some unconscious fear of death? Well if that's the explanation, then we should all faint when we see blood. I got queasy earlier when I pricked my finger by accident. I don't usually get queasy with the site of blood.
Would you consider me an eccentric? And does the shape of my nose annoy you? It annoyed a girl who rode the same bus as me in middle school. She told a different Emily about it and then that Emily told me. Come to think of it, all of our names are Emily (assuming they are both still alive.)
Sometimes people physically near me feel so far away that I assume they have great depth of character.
It bothers me that my Dad thinks wind chimes are annoying. That's like saying you hate rainbows. I kind of think wind chimes are annoying. I also think poetry about the beauty of nature is annoying.
My little pet tree in my room is losing its leaves but I don't think it's dying. How the hell did that happen? It's an INDOOR tree.
I once saw some pictures on Facebook of a mentally handicapped guy I grew up with sitting on his parents' back porch (in NC) with Snooki from Jersey Shore. I still don't know the context behind this photo, and for the purposes of indulging in the absurd, I hope to never find out.
The signature line on credit card receipts no longer shows up for some reason, so I always have to ask visitors to just sign the bottom of the receipt. Even when I say it, it really throws people off when they look at it (plus it's not like they're listening to me). They sorta hover the tip of the pen above the paper and make scribbling motions in the air, while quizzically trying to determine where to press it down and sign. We get so used to things appearing in certain ways even in varying settings, that we are totally thrown off when things don't match our much ingrained preconceived expectations. I explained to one couple that the signature line 'just disappeared one day and never came back.' They both laughed hysterically about this. They looked like academics, or people who dress like academics. I wonder if they simply thought it was a clever witticism (which is wasn't, who am I kidding here?) or if they were just being generous, or if on some level they comprehended the desperation I feel in this existentially monotonous (or monotonously existential?) box I'm in, at least on some sociological/theoretical level." (yes I sometimes use more than one sticky note.)
My life is recorded on video camera for forty hours of the week by the federal government. (I doubt the camera views what it is recording as "Emily's life", it really sees "a sterile room where the movements of bodies rarely occur, (except for when a girl power paces madly from one side of the small space to the other) and where money could potentially be stolen, but probably won't, and I'm a video camera, so I'm objective anyway, and this is just a room.)This really doesn't help my battle with narcissism, nor my crippling paranoia, nor my hopeless exhibitionism.
I like the word implosion. It's very fitting a lot of the time.
Would you consider me an eccentric? And does the shape of my nose annoy you? It annoyed a girl who rode the same bus as me in middle school. She told a different Emily about it and then that Emily told me. Come to think of it, all of our names are Emily (assuming they are both still alive.)
Sometimes people physically near me feel so far away that I assume they have great depth of character.
It bothers me that my Dad thinks wind chimes are annoying. That's like saying you hate rainbows. I kind of think wind chimes are annoying. I also think poetry about the beauty of nature is annoying.
My little pet tree in my room is losing its leaves but I don't think it's dying. How the hell did that happen? It's an INDOOR tree.
I once saw some pictures on Facebook of a mentally handicapped guy I grew up with sitting on his parents' back porch (in NC) with Snooki from Jersey Shore. I still don't know the context behind this photo, and for the purposes of indulging in the absurd, I hope to never find out.
The signature line on credit card receipts no longer shows up for some reason, so I always have to ask visitors to just sign the bottom of the receipt. Even when I say it, it really throws people off when they look at it (plus it's not like they're listening to me). They sorta hover the tip of the pen above the paper and make scribbling motions in the air, while quizzically trying to determine where to press it down and sign. We get so used to things appearing in certain ways even in varying settings, that we are totally thrown off when things don't match our much ingrained preconceived expectations. I explained to one couple that the signature line 'just disappeared one day and never came back.' They both laughed hysterically about this. They looked like academics, or people who dress like academics. I wonder if they simply thought it was a clever witticism (which is wasn't, who am I kidding here?) or if they were just being generous, or if on some level they comprehended the desperation I feel in this existentially monotonous (or monotonously existential?) box I'm in, at least on some sociological/theoretical level." (yes I sometimes use more than one sticky note.)
My life is recorded on video camera for forty hours of the week by the federal government. (I doubt the camera views what it is recording as "Emily's life", it really sees "a sterile room where the movements of bodies rarely occur, (except for when a girl power paces madly from one side of the small space to the other) and where money could potentially be stolen, but probably won't, and I'm a video camera, so I'm objective anyway, and this is just a room.)This really doesn't help my battle with narcissism, nor my crippling paranoia, nor my hopeless exhibitionism.
I like the word implosion. It's very fitting a lot of the time.
