Who are you if you haven’t anyone to tell?

Seeing familiar faces throughout one’s day/week/month/year is akin to doing whatever TF it is you get up to with your computer on a familiar operating system. Familiar face pools vary in size. Familiar face frequency requirements are adaptable and individually tuned. The crux, then, becomes the reliability of the familiar face pool as it relates to the currently tuned frequency requirement. An unproductive pool feels like sitting down before a virgin OS. A drained pool feels like the OS is language locked to something composed mostly of clicks.

When you realize that wandering about offering to squeeze crush aluminum cans with your hands would be a greater societal contribution than anything you’ve offered for the last 18 years… having just realized that palm pressing the dropped can of Bubbly was about as meaningful as your life gets.

When you realize you’ve aged out of remembering what having friends is like.

I suppose three is the first stable grouping since it adds the ability to keep two while discarding one.

When it takes fourty-whatever-it-is-now years to first wonder whether we are all recycling our saliva.

Raise your hand if you knowingly post shit like “Raise your hand” for what, in the best case scenario, would happen to be the scarce accidental audience with whom you’ve already disengaged.

What does all arithmetic have in common?

Okay, but what about uncountable sets?

Okay, smartass, then finish figuring out the connection that got me here:

destruction-as-specialized-creation-operation + memory-of-logic-circuits-and-arithmetic-op-construction ⟹ ?

If sleep ain’t a human right, then neither is breathing. Though, I am not sure human rights carry the same weight they had in the eighties when I first heard mention of them.

If there are any mentions waiting, don’t take it personally.

A Compendium of Crutches: From Mother Mary to Mary Jane, How Humanity Copes With Its Own Self Awareness

F$&k y’all for not writing this already.

** and, kindaf$&k y’all for seeing the hypothetical contribution of such a book as critical or physical instead of a resource for crutch refinement

Eat a dick, Louisiana.

When you are the only one to remember your conversations.

All but one, actually

When your entire fucking support team practically vanishes overnight.

When you force her to read nonsense like this in a text because how the fuck else were you going to describe it: “Just sucks I have to rock my bog-sunken tires free from this tractionless hellscape in order to get moving again.”

When you couldn’t give two fucks about anything you’ve ever created.

When you realize you and your dog both freeze up fearing culpability for the sudden burst of expletives now pouring in from the other room (despite its usually being work related).

When you remember keeping your parents address longer so you could continue voting against Newt Gingrich who was coming for your brother’s happiness.

Fourty-f$&king-what? You’d think I’d have breathing down by now.

When everything you’ve touched over the last twenty two hours turns sideways.

Out of nowhere, puffins be closing the gap on my flying foxes.

Teach people how to make the sauce.

Sorry, Claire, I was over you being stunned four years ago. Back to bats.

I wonder when, precisely, was that point in time that it became more difficult for humanity to keep the light out than to bring the light in.