when i talk grinning, i think i sound sarcastic

. . .

inadequate in conversations, want to say i cannot recall so finely / vividly / usefully as you, i feel ill-equipped to face & engage the forces that doom us universally, i cannot describe precisely or analyze let alone be engaged in redressing the feeling that i am 'fucked' but you cannot do that because then

• you are monopolizing all intellectual & affective product of the conversation
• you are effectively doing this by ending in uniform manner all conversations
• you are doing something you would not want to witness / participate in yourself
• therefore you are not helping anyone

. . .

i like when writers break as if inelegantly their description of phenomena into enumerated aspects, into lists which are wide ranging and also admittedly & necessarily incomplete. i feel they are being honest / open to perhaps irreducible complexity at all scales / not careless, insincere, or distracted in their present focus

not that this is the only way or even emblematic of the only ways to do that

'i like' is meant to imply that i am thinking about things that make me happy / may be smiling

feels difficult if not impossible to convey this / similar sentiments in casual to serious conversation due to fundamental limits of temporal expanse, linearity, and preoccupation

i said 'fundamental' that is stupid i don't know

'fundamental' means i am confused / possibly untenable

classes 'resume' monday. i am in classes of 12, 12, 35, 40, and 285 people. i am trying to arrange feelings of hopefulness / openness

i am staying up all night reading blogs and the first five to thirty pages i can get off amazon / barnes & noble / google of books i may be (and now am) interested in. i have read a todd hasak-lowy story, two chapters of anagrams by lorrie moore, pages of revolutionary road, and also a little of books i am not interested in

i laid on the couch and read all of shoplifting from american apparel. this feels like a book i will reread in isolated selections with ~ the same frequency / motivations as rearranging furniture. sam's several and ghost-like romantic / sexual bonds seem like 'fundamental types' or platonic solids, which are somehow elementary expressions of being 'fucked' and also opaque

i don't know i am losing control of what i mean