We'll leave you kicking and screaming so you can thank us in the end

Sometimes I wish I could just listen to music normally, instead of like this, like every piece was so goddam important, like if I listen to it wrong it'll screw up the experience of it, or mess me up in some way. Of course, the danger is more that it won't mess me up - the CFOB Mixtape screwed me up to the point that I still can't listen to it like a "normal" album. One day I'll get to the point where I can listen to it when I'm not in the dark, lying on the floor as the music lights up every single one of my synapses like a goddam Christmastree. But not yet. I'm almost afraid to try.

If music didn't get all-the-way into my bloodstream I feel like I might be halfway to normal.

I spent the day with a mane again; the fluffiness almost suffocating me as I tried to move my head. I feel like it should be a fashion statement; really, it's just me being unable to brush out the tangles and giving up halfway through. (I'd turn this into a metaphor about my life, but I'm not quite that cliché.)

Reading an email with different fonts messed with my head today, remembering suddenly that the real difference between an uppercase 'I' with top-and-bottom perpendicular lines and an 'I' without is about forty years and facial hair. Then couldn't see anything else as I looked at the email and had to send it quickly before closing my eyes and trying not to look at any letters for a few minutes while my head cleared. It's more of a problem than it used to be because I know I'm overthinking it; where once I subliminated (because otherwise it drives you crazy) now I see them like crowds in front of me. Overthinking has always been one of my less enviable qualities.

Give me detached existentialist ennui.
Flash.