That’s not entirely true, I suppose. I’ve been to the library here and though it’s nice, there are certainly no windows worth jumping out and over. I actually don’t even think it’s possible.

Sometimes that’s the place I slip into, over literal and needing explanation, like I’m ever even asked the questions I ask myself.

I do like the library, however, given when you walk into one it’s like going into a store where everything’s free to borrow. It satisfies an urge for me to shop, given that’s not gonna happen either.

Today I made it, and it was easy to remember how quick and comfortable it is to be nice to people who have a lot more money than I do to go traveling the world. It’s like setting people up for your dream trip every time, which makes everything so much easier to do. It’s not something you necessarily have to wrangle morally over selling, that feeling I sometimes had selling beauty creams to women spending the last of their social security checks, convinced it somehow made a difference. You pretty much picture yourself on every trip you sell, which is a fantastic way to spend the day, fully immersed in the experience you might never actually have.

People going away are always super excited too, so that’s never a bad conversation to have. I easily disarm the crankiest people, and honestly…I could be a really great salesperson. I am one half the time anyways, and I suppose missing the ability to maintain certain conveniences being resolved is pretty amazing to recover from, I am hoping, almost instantly.

I do like this job..but I got into it for the most nefarious reasons in some ways…(I wanted to travel)….I thought I would get to write about travel in some ways, no pretty much every goddamn way. Every sense gets activated when you leave this stinking place. And I am not just talking about Republicans, though I feel they are largely misled.

Still there is that, I want to travel and do that book I always wanted to do…and have my little place somewhere far away from the baloney that gets other people irritated. I am thinking like weekly updates or every two weeks traveling home for the library and all.

But then there is this, the reality, that stinks and sinks into a different kind of oblivion. I sometimes want to give up and experience that last feeling of flight, the one that I’ve dreamt of and about for most of my life. I sometimes want to drive off the fucking mountain. I sometimes think, no I most of the time think he is right there with me in some ways. I just never pictured having life at this point in time, let alone having this one. I mean no, I wasn’t planning on killing myself then, because I didn’t think I was going to make it this far, let alone have this crap get extended like some kind of auto-delivery of misery every 2-3 years or so.  Who the fuck would have thought this? I am clearly no idiot though that was part of my concern with coming back to work. I had IQ tests done before and after my surgeries and some things scored worse. I probably shouldn’t admit that, though it was pretty fucking high at one point, which makes me sadder as Don just told me he scored 176 at one point and is significantly lower as we all get “stupider as we get older.” 

There are giant icicles hanging from the side of the buildings, which seem to only be getting worse every day, only half melting from this cold. Don said if he gets fed up with life he is going to go lay down underneath them. I have had an unnatural death fascination since I was all of 12, focused on the end of me in ways that most kids didn’t, varied in experience from sharks eating me to falling off buildings to getting impaled on the highway to getting shot to getting eaten. WHO thinks like that at 12?

Me, apparently. I didn’t kill any animals and love them completely. I am not vegan but things are headed there. Life is sometimes completely without reward but we all know what that feels like.

I know I am not special in feeling like I do. I know most of you have had some semblance of shit that paved your way into complete WHYTHEFUCKISTHISHAPPENINGness.

I get it. I often hate people because they don’t get it, don’t understand as I do we cannot be this divided and not literal with our intentions and connections.

I miss friends most of all, though I read NY was a great place to live to die from a stroke. Who has a driveway in Hawaii or somewhere on the NW coast?

Nobunny, I know.