purr

I've been reading Richard Brautigan again and my thoughts have begun to form a similar structure to his narrative technique. They are short, matter-of-fact, dreamy, sometimes pretty and of little consequence. My mind is so easily changed, not in conviction but in pattern. It's like after I've played Tetris for 2 hours in a row and I walk around fitting everything I see into some sort of puzzle, unending, and unnerving because it's not fast enough and the music has heightened. It takes simple things, word in a row, blocks falling quickly, and these formations reform my thought process. It's interesting, but I'm not sure what it is, or what i mean.

But I like Richard Brautigan. In Watermelon Sugar always conjures pleasant sensory images of crusty houses made of Watermelon Sugar;, sticky and sweet cities. Very nice and pretty and pleasant and many other adjectives that are sort of vague but overall positive. That's what the novella is like.

In other news, I saw a picture of a slice of pizza topped with pizza bites. A metapizza. So clever, and scrumptious. The world is too much sometimes. I like it here.

Unrelated: lately I've been feeling the way I feel after I leave a movie theater late at night, and it's really silent in the parking lot, and dark, and cold, and I'm not sure if I'm alive or walking in a dream - things seem echoey and surreal. The light from the streetlamps stretch in long shafts like hazy sun rays, and my eyes feel blurry and tired, like my mind. Day in and day out, this feeling that I'm disconnected from something tangible that I can't put my finger on. It's all ironic. Maybe I mean to be confusing. Maybe none of my thoughts are genuine and my sentences are just structured to look complex and sound introspective. But that's just it, I don't know myself really, or my intentions. It's like I'm walking from a dark theater into a dark night with blurry eyes and sleepy limbs.