I’M DUMPING IT ALL AT ONCE BC I COULDN’T LOG IN YESTERDAY (sorry!)

6:50 am

woke up. head in weird place because drank too much coffee yesterday. brain feels like it’s simultaneously sluggish and moving too fast. “uncoordinated” would probably be the best way to put it. like running downhill fast, where the momentum builds but you’re not in complete control. a bit like falling, but less scary. went downstairs and made more coffee.

checked the internet. nothing.

7:00 am – 9:30 am

tried messing with uut poetry’s zapruder/mirov/schomburg project. still dealing with my head feeling shitty. this project is more complicated than his others. there are like multiple options for what “moves” you make in the various sections. it’s not helping my head.

can’t log in to the liveblog. not sure why not. considering messaging lee, but feel embarrassed.

it keeps telling me this

no access

messaged lee. imagining how funny it would be if i never figure out how to log in, and all my posts throughout the day are about me grappling with some arbitrary wordpress fuck up. like everyone’s in a real fancy party with their heads back, laughing, and i’m locked out and banging on the windows and then it starts raining.

my head feels better.

lee responds. still no luck logging in. feel pretty confident this isn’t actually my fault, though i’m still not sure what the deal is.

9:30 am – 11:30 am

pull ups. banana. hard boiled egg.

watching chris hayes talk about the government charging edward snowden with espionage.

working on a page for the graphic novel. last panel of page 7, a drawing where bits of torn paper turn into moths and fly upwards. it looks okay.

the news always makes me feel small. small and angry.

posted the page on tumblr.

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greedily perch above the refresh button and wait for notes to roll in. i am a fisherman and this is my ocean. i am the roundest hippo and i am always hungry. feed me, internet.

take out my sketchbook and divide a page into 2×3 panel grid. dividing the blank page into panels is probably the most satisfying part of making a comic. like you’re chopping the universe into little box-shaped worlds and you get to populate them however you want. you feel like a god. a god holding a ruler, waving a mechanical pencil made entirely of flame. i’ve stared this thing where i’m making comics with my friend about her dreams. i’ve already planned out this page in a moleskine a few days ago. now i’m trying to sketch it out thoroughly. i’m worried about not being able to draw her properly. i’m not good at drawing women. they are curvy and complicated. men are just a bunch of boxes you can jam together. there’s no delicacy required. i never went to art school. i also have to draw an ape for this thing. i search for good images of apes. a lot of them look sad, like old daguerrotypes of native americans. a lot of them are cgi from the last planet of the apes movie.

the news is still on. jesus, what if the supreme court cancels the voting rights act? sometimes i think about the future and it feels like a mouth snapping open and shut. a lot of times i mentally cross my fingers and the best case scenario is i die of old age before the world eats itself.

11:30 am

took a break from comics. my back hurts from this chair. wonder if maybe this chair is going to fuck my back up spectacularly somewhere down the line?

replied to a sad email from my sad friend. she lives hundreds of miles away and there’s nothing i’ll ever really be able do to help her. sometimes it’s like the internet isn’t worth a goddamn thing.

went to my sister’s room and watched movie trailers. anchorman 2 made me laugh.

12:00 pm

jumped rope. shower.

what happens if i liveblog about reading other people’s entries in the liveblog?

traded texts with a handful of people whose physical bodies are very far away from my physical body.

made two sandwiches. ate them and watched a video podcast thing (is there proper term for these? is vodcast a thing? sounds stupid.) about video games. it’s strange how i still follow the movements of the video game industry even though i rarely play games anymore. it was mostly just people talking about the new xbox. i don’t really give a shit about that, but i watched it anyway.

1:00 – 3:30 pm

this thing happens in the afternoons where there’s so much sunlight in my room that my eyes start to hurt. i lay on my bed reading frank santoro’s storeyville, putting it down every few pages just to rest my eyes, folding my right arm over them to create a little darkness. storeyville is interesting. santoro did it in a very sketchy style. loose lines for buildings, and sometimes the figures look like hasty black skeletons. i’ve noticed that when i draw for long periods of time i start to think in drawings. does anyone else do this? it happens with writing too. yesterday i was coming back from a cafe and had been reading poetry to myself and all my thoughts as i walked home seemed to take the form of weird sentence fragments barked out from somewhere very far away. and now after reading this comic i found myself thinking about the way we see things, and how if you want to you can break down everything you see into about three or four basic geometric shapes. that’s all drawing is for me. as long as your brain can break a thing into various ovals and rectangles, there’s nothing you can’t do. it feels really fucking good to close your eyes sometimes.

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3:30 – 4:00 pm

heard my sister come home from doing…something, who knows? she ate lunch and we watched arrested development.

4:00 – 4:30 pm

checked the internet.

wondering if this thing will even end up on the liveblog.

5:00 – 10:00 pm

went to go see before midnight.

walking to the theater in summer always reminds me how our bodies are just walking sacks of water. it starts pouring out of me. my tshirt sticks to me. i always feel embarrassed buying the movie ticket bc the guy behind the glass must think i climbed out of the ocean. i pay for my sister because she doesn’t have any cash on her. i hear the guy say “twenty-two dollars,” so i slide a twenty and a five through the small space in the glass. he takes the twenty and leaves the five, and for a second i don’t know if i misheard him or he’s just shitty at his job. pretty sure i misheard him, which he confirms seconds later by saying, “just twenty.” i am overly apologetic, like i’ve done him some great harm, and it takes me a few seconds to get a grip on the five and pull it back through the glass.

finding a good seat in the dark.

lots of old people.

thank god for a/c.

feel like i have a lot to say about this movie but this liveblog isn’t the place. it’s really good. being an adult looks hard. kids are scary. being beautiful and then aging into a version of yourself that is less beautiful must be difficult. i’ll never know about that. i’m a shaved ape dancing in the same damn tree.

at one point towards the end of the movie julie delpy is expressing her anger and fear about having to put ethan hawke’s life and career before her own, and this old guy behind me turns to his wife and says, “wow, she’s being a real bitch.”

walking home is less difficult bc the sun is down. i should go out more. the city is nice at night.

10:00 pm – 12:00 am

an amazon package came earlier with some comics. french stuff. herge “clean line” style. i want to get better at that. feel like i lean on cross-hatching too much. it’s a crutch. also a book of essays on pataphysics.

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ate an apple and looked at the internet. got an email from that friend i’m making the dream comics with. it’s embarrassing how the base of my skull starts glowing when i see her name in my inbox.

now that i’m finished with my scene for the 2 fast 2 furious novelization i decide to watch the entire movie. i get about half-way and stop, but am earnestly enjoying it. it’s fun. you can tell everyone’s having a good time. it’s weird how you can just tell by the cinematography that it was shot in like 2002 or 2003. also i’m getting the impression that paul walker’s character is supposed to be “cool,” but he comes off as really stilted and awkward. like a little kid who was bullied a lot and then did an ugly ducking type transformation, but still doesn’t know how to be comfortable in his own body. he wears a lot of shorts too. i feel like it’s hard to be intimidating in shorts.

i’m tired now. i can tell bc i’m losing interest in writing down what’s happening, not that anything is really. still not sure if this thing will ever end up on the site. sleep sleep sleep.

goodbye, beautiful person who read this!

More Brad

Today I spent nearly twelve hours writing a book with a friend of mine. I am excited and it is excellent. It is a high point of creative inspiration for me. I am glad I got out of the house, went and did this, and forced myself to write and create again. It feels like this whole thing is a great excerise. I might keep blogging/journaling/liveblogging my days in the future. For now, I’m going to do some rough edits before passing out. I hope everyone else had a great and interesting day to talk about! I know mine certainly didn’t really involve anything worth sharing except for my material and well, shhhh, that’s secret.

 

gnight all. this was a good excercise. let’s do it again sometime soon.

It’s 10:31 pm. Uploading more photos from earlier (4:57 pm, 5:12 pm, 5:40 pm)

At 4:58 pm I picked up a newspaper, ripped a page out, and jotted down notes of the things I was seeing on my walk. A guy driving a dry cleaning delivery truck smoking a cigarette. In the Castro, a naked dude, which isn’t an uncommon occurrence, and two sorority-looking girls walking behind him and snapping a photo of his behind with their iphone, which I thought was rude. And later, at the slides, this dude was there with his kids (I guess) and we were talking about public funds being used for parks and schools instead of putting people in prison for victimless crimes. Then, the first example he cited, was some guy getting 8 years for downloading a kiddie porn picture and distributing it. I looked at him like, really? That’s the example you cite of a victimless crime? And your kids are right there? That was hella uncomfortable.

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Drag version of The Craft showing at the Castro Theatre.

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More photos from my walk. The “Lost Lovebird” sign made me sad. I had a hamburger and I thought the onion and tomato slices would make cute earrings.

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It’s 10:45 pm. My back hurts from sitting at this computer for several hours now. I need some back support. I need a back massage. I need a vacation.

It’s 10:15 pm. Billy Corgan just sang to me, “It’s you that I adore, you will always be my whore”

Feel reluctant to really share any personal feelings or details on here. I blog, but I don’t really get too personal because I don’t really want all my shit out there. I do that when I write poetry. 

Going to finish listening to this concert, going to keep writing poems, and then I swear to god I’m going to watch John Dies At The End again.

It’s 10:18 pm. “In you I feel so pretty, in you I crash cars.”

It’s 9:27 pm. Ugh.

Now it’s 9:28. I’m listening to Belle & Sebastian, but it’s a playlist and it’s begun to repeat so I’m going to change it. I have an idea for some poems and a story and I really want to get it down. I have a google doc open. I’m writing this stuff down.

Now it’s 9:52 pm. I am listening to this same damn Smashing Pumpkins concert in Dublin and feeling kind of sad. I like listening to sad music. I don’t think being sad is bad, but perhaps dwelling in it to the point where it stops you from doing the things you like for an extended period of time is bad. I dunno, though. I just like listening to melancholy music. Black bile is my friend.

It’s 9:56 pm. I’m chatting with a few different people talking about plans for tomorrow. I have my alarm set for 10 am. It’s going to be rough. Hopefully my coordinations will work out. I like planning big things like this, even though this isn’t even big whatever, but I worry about the details. Not the fine details, I guess, but I dunno. I like to worry.

It’s 10:02 pm. “Blank Page” man, I could listen to this song like 400 times in a row while stuck on an elevator and not be sick of it. In fact, it would probably be the thing keeping me sane. Wish it was 1998.