I think I'm in love with the word escape and every concept that dangles from it's multiplicity of curves and unabashed lines, and this is the point when I realized that this morning. sitting on this bed,
the summer air that speaks of winter weather,
I've been escaping my whole life.
I'm experiencing this sensation that I experienced my first semester in berkeley where I'd start writing out a cohesive thought and then I'd just start writing the word nothing for every noun.
ways to defeat.
why am I so out of control?
Isimultaneously can't be alone for more than 24 hours without trying to climb up the walls and etching patterns on them as I ascend...
but I crave alone.
Fuck, let me talk about something more concrete.
Summer school is killing me. I think my professor is determined to make half the class fail. I was looking at the syllabus for the same class in the fall, and there is less work for the semester long class than there is for the summer class.
Where does this make work?
Why would you just assign a 10 page paper to your 6 week class and not your 3 month class.
fuck you prof.
(and as I write this, my brain, in it's true time sensative explosive manner, throws out "you've never actually listened to music. You're fake"
thanks brain)
but yeah, so I have a meeting for my group project in several hours, and I'm so done with the class that the only thing that's really encouraging me to go is the fact that 12 people's grade depends on this.
***
The weather today makes me miss the winter when everything was wonder and flurry and I was too caught up to stop writing
but it's summer now, despite the weather, and I've learned to shut my mouth again.
It's a pretty easy skill.
I'm really great with general. I hate specific.
specific means shit gets taking care of
and addressed
and brought to surface.
and lord knows that that is something I've never done.
so maybe I'm the one who's not worth it.
