1. Monday, February 6, 2017

    every day i write the book 

    today i woke up sicker than the day before.

    i didnt wanna be on the computer. i didnt wanna lay down. i didnt wanna fight crime. i didnt wanna walk in the rain.

    i wanted to clean. i felt gross. i am gross. im fat and hairy and disgusting.

    my phone battery wont charge all the way. its these chords. these cheap cords.

    my back hurts. i have a broom stick i use to play air guitar sometimes. i put it behind my back and roll it on my back and it works for a few minutes. i shower. i scrub

    i was listening to lena dunam get interviewed by howard stern while i scrubbed my dull dough and i blew my nose like farmers do. like football players. like mountain men.

    and i started bleeding.

    the maroon blood drops mixed with my grimey shower water and i thought i could die right here and people would think i was a coke head

    let the record state that i dont even like cocaine. i did crystal once at ucsb to stay up to read moby dick before a final and even then i was all wtf this is stupid. so if you do cut me up on my death bed and theres coke in my system it was Putin!

    one of the best things about my mom is she studied russian in college to show off. she knows about things.

    i was super sad when i realized i was not gonna be able to make it to the Nominees Luncheon today

    and at the bottom of the sadness i checked my mail and my mom had sent me a calendar of the Cubs.

    made everything better.

    turns out my whole work is sick too.

    if i have to host the Oscars get ready for some unbelieveable ratings.