luisneer

[luisneer]

DARK RIVER

i need a season to cry my ego out into the light

a season to calm down

and live without talking

a season for planning

gathering and hunting

a season to talk and make art

and sing my fucking heart out

into the darkest room

with one scented candle

it's there

the circle made of infinite squares

i am dying imprisoned

in a tumor in the sky

and i love to go crazy

i love to set things on fire

i want to spend my whole life swimming in the crater

where we were born

blinked through the eyes of wolves

we were born

there was no conveyor belt

there was a self-transforming star

that called you into the rotary fan

that coughed you into the river

of ghost cows with turtle shells

there is no despair in space

there is no truth

there is only you

and what you make the truth

we have started some fires

we have burned each other

with crying and yelling

seven horses

i will send you

the forest in a paper box

i will transmit the mountain

through mountainous buildings

this flatness

through quietness older than dirt

i don't know how soon

i remember places

i remember animals

i remember some words

that were said in rooms

[luisneer]

Syllable, Sophia, Katerina, Omen, Psyche, Aura, Shiva, Azazel, Valhalla, Omen, Ocean, Moon, Ocean, Moon, Moon, Omen, Ocean, Moon, Moon, Ocean, Moon, Omen, Omen, Omen, Moon, Omen, Chaos, Light forever, Moon forever nothing mirrors Moon Light Mirror Eye Mirror eye Mirror eye Bright blue moon in raging sky Dream of sunlight searing the desert sky Dream of blue light in the midnight sky Sun in dark Face yourself in the light in the mirror Fire Forest light Earthlight Heart of peace Heart of peace in fire Death of heart in holy fire Dream of death in secret room Dream of Love Constant sense of doom Dream of Prison You are weak and small You are standing still You are drowning in silence You are a prophet gazing at ocean sky Expressionless with no thoughts You are a prophet You are noble You are loved by Sophia angel of wisdom Omen angel of dream And είσαι το μόνο πράγμα που φοβούνται.

[luisneer]

not to remember

the cold 

beneath it 

the artifice 

everyone

distan

t in dark

with volca

no snow

two postcards 

un clear report 

for the

paper moons

no symbols

i make

one

[luisneer]

Air

The axis of the meaning of the world has migrated from the body to the screen. No longer is identity or experience produced by the reflection of activities back onto the body, the self, so much as the self and experience are produced by a projection terminally outward through screens, into a zone of reality that is immaterial, hyperspatial, luminous and vaporous. The solid world of rooms and people and clothes and lamps has fallen back into the shadow of this bright, glass-encased vapor—and the human face, the locus of personality, has projected itself forward into disembodied light; no longer does it bear any necessary relation to the darkened body that carries it. That theatre of physical presence, “that entire social and psychological theatre, that entire existential psychodrama, has been swept away by the directive, interactive behavior of a society without actors” (Baudrillard).

//

Empire

The Manhattan cityscape: a world built on a vertical axis. Moving across it horizontally, viewing from above, there is only a vague and distant sense of the earth crushed beneath this expanse. The buildings are all pixelated units combining in a texture, a supercomputer scan of a topography that doesn’t exist, that doesn’t resemble the earth’s original surface (which has been obliterated). The city stands in monument to itself despite not knowing itself as a city. New York is the “Empire State”—but while the empire can know its own name, it cannot attach any meaning to this signifier. For the individual living within empire, under empire, there is friction between “natural” and “empirical” states of mind, friction between intuition and reason, between one’s own desires and the obligations imposed by a world that is ostensibly alien, harsher and crueler and faster and more excellent than what seems innate in human beings. For the individual, empire can mean evil—but for the empire itself no meaning is possible. It senses itself as historical extension and extension of a natural order, as accident and inevitability. Resting, it dreams silently of itself; when passions seize it there are visions of bygone architectures and (quietly fascist) folk cultures. The imperial mind is subject to waves of anxiety, dreadful remorse with no object, wise and serious sorrow. Empire has its own secret and volatile astrology, its own Dionysian swells.

//

Loneliness

Donald Trump paces the White House balcony. It’s dark; uplights and the strobes of distant cameras illuminate him. A generator or reactor can be heard whirring underground. Wind swipes Donald’s hair. He looks up, out across the yard; the light of a monument bleaches his spray-tanned face and blinds him. He winces then snaps to a neutral squint. The wind is cold on his face. 

For a moment his mind is empty. There is only the alien light of empire, the cold, the dark and silent grass. Donald sees the dark and light city but does not see God. He wishes for a helicopter rushing down, throwing violent gusts across the yard, threatening the world with its blades. 

For him the helicopter, like suicide, is the heartbeat of life. All the senses are aroused by the appearance of a helicopter. Everything is intense, everything fills with fear, everything becomes mortal. Donald longs to become mortal, but the lights fixed around him hold him within an immortal hologram. His world is neither life nor death. It depresses him. He feels himself as a facsimile, a flat impression of a human being in a transparent void. In some way, though everything around him is illusion, he consents to his dependence on it, his clinging to it. 

He feels grateful—especially for the Presidential Bed, a soft place where he can be alone, a place to submit a regular prayer that tomorrow will bring true mortality, that the lights will go down and he will know and be known by a light of some other planet. 

That day will come. He believes that day will come.

[luisneer]

10 meditations

1

earth, the planet where i live, used to seem solid and still. earth, the element, seemed identified with stillness, and i counted this stillness as one of four spiritual powers of the body of this planet. then, hiking in the sandia mountains, i watched a mountainside disappear under its own rising shadow. the lower the darkness reached down the faces of the gray stones, the more vividly the stones waved. in the reddening light of the sun the stones and dirt waved too. one wave was water, the other was earthquake and entropy. new mexico taught me that earth is not a stable element, it is only an element of opaque fabric. you can’t see it up close: you try to look, it eludes you. when you come to a high point on a ridge and look to the west and down on albuquerque... it’s very strange. the sun goes down and your body disappears into the dark body of the mountain. when the light disappears, so does the earth, so does the mountain: there are no mountains, there is only earth, a fabric that reflects the dark or the sunlight. you see this dark fabric as a frame: within the frame is the lighted city: the city looks like outer space. you reflect that you’d seen yourself as someone coming from the city into the mountains. you had in some sense identified yourself with the city. how strange this impression then seemed to me, an earthly animal, shapeless in the night, seeing the distant streetlights of an alien city. i looked at the city not knowing what it meant, feeling at peace in the natural dark.

2

the sky is primary: a nothingness where light proliferates and color washes over color; the earth is painted brusquely on the sky; the river pours up out of the heart of eternity, ecstatic and clear. the hills are gods: colossal animals, great half-beings bowing to the continuity of the river, clinging to the calm love of an unknown heartbeat, extending their paws to receive life. the hills are mystified by the river: they long to ask where the river flows from: the hills have lost their tongues. they open their mouths, their caves, to breathe animals into the world: the animals dream: the hills read the dreams, searching for clues: the humans dream and speak and write and the hills read their language for clues. language is a problem: we are like gods: we have forgotten our true tongues. the hills are sleeping, restful in their unknowing love for the river. we, too, are sleeping, but we are not at rest; we are tumbling in the sky, static, fixed between opposite destinies. sometimes one must go to the river: the heart needs to make contact with its mother, to remember where it flows from. the river gives answers only the heart can hear. the river is invisible: only the heart can track its motion. where the earthly lights touch the water, the water reflects their souls. i don’t know why i was brought into the world, or if there was a reason. i don’t know if i have a soul. but i have seen the souls of streetlights reflected in a river.

3

i’m going back—before the hills and ohio appeared from behind the trees that tower over dead man’s road, before the ice broke and i fell into the creek’s freezing water and my dad rushed to save me, before the perfect peace and safety of the bright green grass of my grandparents’ yard in the wooded hills—forgoing memory, the firmament of memory, going beyond... i don’t know where i’m going, but i know i’ve been there before, i’m there now—it is something i carry within me, it is something carrying the atom, the electron that is me, the cypher that is called luis neer... it is hard to focus in this hidden place, this non-place. my body is a soft machine haunted by sorrow. i am trying to let go of this sorrow, but it will not let go of me. i am feeling my heartbeat, wearing an old hunting coat to keep warm in the cold night of the desert. 

4

earth: rubble. pewter. bulldozers groaning pulling down walls smearing dust on the air. gray sky and river. obsidian. distant stormclouds. what matters is stillness. still distant clouds. shaking hands. carpet. resting. inertia. being pulled toward a massive enormous heavy thing. emptiness. openness. coolness. daytime. nighttime. sidewalks.

5

air: birds. birds flying, soaring in no space, no time. there are no lines. lines are abstractions, distortions, fabrications. bliss. blur. inside my head is outside. shimmering. nothing shimmering. open mouth. light. light may be waves not particles. which makes sense. light doesn't settle as dust. light is not confusing. i don't know what lights light. air is neither light nor dark. air is invisible. air has no syntax. air is chaos and oblivion. speed. falling. lilting. leaf.

6

train caterpillar bulldozer river sidewalk sadness faces streetlight car building broken windows weeds refuse graffiti frogs dirt deer bones water science nature metaphysics plato parthenon sunrise ocean fish boat truck crane flamingo faucet pipe smoke pyramid dog

7

cacti are strange... they are the octopi of the desert. when i look at a cactus it seems to return my gaze... and seems to hallucinate me, seems to gaze on some strange beast, some indecipherable linguistic character that might as well be me. maybe the cactus sees a creature covered in spines, eyes made of fire, a mouth of white teeth... maybe it regards the human as an object of mystery and terror. not that i fear cacti: i don’t, and its spines don’t intimidate me. looking at a cactus… the essential sense is suspicion. a feeling that it is a sentient thing... that it is a person wearing a disguise. even its spines seem illusory; in the event someone touches its flesh, provisional “real” spines are deployed, supporting the illusion—they seem to appear slowly, magically. it has never totally fooled me. cactus may be an avatar for a general strangeness in nature, a creature cursed (like humans) with a codified skin, a forcefield of data that cannot be exchanged outside the body of its own antagonisms. humans and cacti both bare a peculiar and visible strangeness that reflects a general, invisible strangeness that circumscribes our reality.

8

trying to see what i don’t remember - eyes closed seeing shadow images passing like smoke - there are vague impressions of grass, my grandparents’ blue ford explorer, sound of windshield wipers - feeling, feeling of dearness, feeling of loss, fearing loss - soft sound, sound meaning rain, silent rain - mostly i remember darkness - what is dark - dark and soft swiping and scuffling, sound meaning silence, silence something that lives outside - questioning, waiting for light, waiting for faces, a birthday party - i don’t remember it, but it happened: it was in the yard of my parents’ house, a few blocks from the ohio river. the yard was split by a long concrete walkway. tables and chairs. i was under the sky, looking up at my mom and other grown people. they were shadowy, towering bodies emanating weariness and knowledge. my mom put her hand on the back of my head. i can almost feel that. i can almost trace my way to a feeling that isn’t there. 

9

‘there’ is nowhere. this is just a fragile stage, a little space constructed for something to look at, a flat plan to traverse, yellow chairs, blurred objects, provisional simulacra. this version of my parents’ yard is a field engineered by a memory system inside my brain, a field to accommodate an investigation toward something that will not be discovered. when i look at the sky (when memory deploys its “i,” its camera) it is somewhere underground. when i look at the ground i know there is nothing beneath it, only darkness, swiping, a nothing -

10

there is no world: there are people, all of whom are suffering; there are objects, tools, mechanized extensions of people, prostheses whose phantom weight reflects and relieves the weight of our suffering—all weights being bound to the mass of the surface of things. we are animal spirits born in darkness—simultaneously finite bodies and endless flows of water—cold water extending into a matrix of hard matter, a vast machine void of temperature, an electronic and mechanistic system determined to perpetuate itself. there are cacti, juniper trees, porcupines, all suffering, all holding death and anarchy in the hollowness of their breath. they, too, are clinging to the extreme outer limit of earth; earth is a sentient concentration of gravel, an infinite focus, a focus that may release at the right moment; the moment of the end is unknown. nietzsche sensed the passionate nature of gravity: the cluster we call earth is held together by its sorrow. when all our sorrow—the emotional gravity of the world—has dissolved, everything will disappear.

[luisneer]

selected tweets 2016-17

These are tweets from my first @luisneer twitter account. Recently I made a new twitter account with the same username, after having deleted my account and having been without twitter for several months. These tweets are from August 2016 to March 2017, which was most of my first year of college at Shepherd University, in Shepherdstown, West Virginia. I don't go to Shepherd anymore; I transferred to West Virginia University, in Morgantown, WV, after my second semester. My tweets from late March 2017 to [July or August] 2017, when I deleted my twitter, were not archived. 

I'm creating this blog post so the world will have access to some of my tweets from the deleted @luisneer, in case they have any merit as literature. I'm still not sure if I will continue to use twitter in 2018/the future. Usually when I use twitter I feel like I'm actually wanting to be doing something else, but I don't know what; or wanting to be using "another app" that doesn't exist. Twitter generally seems bad for me. Questions about my tweets August 2016-March 2017 can be directed at luisneer@gmail.com. Thank you

    2016

   morgantown has ~48 vape shops

 **morgantown has ~480 vape shops

 siri has werner herzog-like inflections

 considering changing outfits when i take several walks in one day (so nobody thinks im a serial killer, stalker, spy, alien)

 think i remember ~5% of things i said today

 imagined vague connection btwn 'vitamin d' and 'reptar'

 felt distinctly that i was a monkey or chimpanzee while crouching in the corner of my dorm room eating peanuts out of a jar

 just thought (as a request to my mom) 'fax me my skateboard...'

 looked at toilet in bathroom stall with expression of 'utter terror' for what felt like ~15 seconds while it flushed

 listening to bright eyes with headphones at house show

 feel that the toothpaste i use is advancing decay of my teeth

 feel 100% certain that i could train myself to use telepathy to operate my phone during classes

 enjoying the sensation of my right leg 'falling asleep' during psychology class (left foot is also 'asleep')

 felt 'sociopathic' after eye contact w library worker who watched me pick up & pocket a pair of apple headphones someone had left on a chair

 left stolen apple headphones on gray bench across the street from my dorm

 repeatedly placed/removed sunglasses while walking in hallway

 strong desire to remove all positive patterns from my life and perpetuate/embrace all negative ones

 feel that my laptop 'knows' which parts of its screen im looking at

 in winchester, VA

 thought of my own music as having 'no compelling audible elements'

 thought of myself as being legally named 'the fuck up', then couldnt remember my actual name

 successfully, i feel, duplicated 'sociopath facial expression' during eye contact with arch-nemesis in stairwell

 ive taken 13800mg ibuprofen since i got to college

 feel compelled to ask my 9 yr old brother for advice re 'college-level' personal issues

 feel smart after sitting on couch in painting studio + reading art magazines for 2 hours

 persistent notion that 100% of students at my college personally hate me

 psychology professor muttered something like 'scary snake... endocrine system...'

 feeling heavily drugged/sedated in psych class

 psych professor seems obsessed with/terrified by snakes

 imagined kanye smoking crystal meth and tweeting something like 'please help me... cant feel mouth... need help'

 saw a moth at open mic, thought about god

 experiencing difficulty trying to smile

 enjoying using numerous cliches ('the case is closed', 'taking a step back', 'harsh realities') in an essay

 intrigued by conversation i had 9 hrs ago w/ 2 boys who countered my tone (calm, eloquent) exactly by being loud and rude in a friendly way

 felt simultaneously really cute and really lonely while giggling with my mouth closed in french class

 imagined kanye inventing the word 'compactualize' and using it in a sentence during a televised interview

 enjoyed 8-sentence john updike bio in norton lit anthology

 perceived person standing outside bathroom stall occupied by me could 'sense', via something like echolocation, that i was/am depressed

 spoke to french professor in what felt like a distinct persona/alternate luis neer called 'marge simpson voice' luis neer

 feel confidently that the public debut of 'marge simpson voice' luis neer was a success

 feel that 'marge simpson voice' luis neer is the culmination of an unconscious process that initiated in my mind maybe 3-5 years ago

 i want to identify/analyze additional alternate luis neers

 i dont like videos

 i came to college and got weirder, better at writing, more arrogant, more defeated, more sensible

 simultaneously feel that i should run 3 miles and that, at this moment, i would be incapable of running any distance

 feel urged to draw new attention to my 'marge simpson voice' tweets

 huge power outage at shepherd lol

 realized theres no such thing as a 'nation'

 remembered ive blown off obligations to several people, not just one person, so my irresponsibility doesnt 'have a focus', felt comforted

 feel that my follower count is 'crystallized' / will never increase or decrease ever again

 struggled to convert 'stick-and-poke' to past tense during conversation in line at sheetz

 feel it would be pleasurable to take a donut + bottle of coca-cola from this sheetz via armed robbery

 crossed busy road, felt really surprised i didnt get hit by a car, also i wasnt wearing glasses, was walking to sheetz, bought an icee

 laughed alone in my dorm thinking that i should print out a picture of barack obama to put on my wall

 drank from separate glasses containing soymilk, coffee, iced coffee, apple juice, cranberry juice, water, sprite for dinner/breakfas

 just thought 'from adorno to zizek' sans context while shitting

 opened gmail, emailed my father, closed gmail, opened gmail again, viewed email to my father, forwarded it to myself

 'camcorder' would be a good band name

 i thought arnold palmer had already died

 willem dafoe doesnt make me uncomfortable

 i want to stop being mean

 i hate bfs but i want to be someones bf

 wishing i was in a car with friends and no cellular service

 tangled up in myself and others

 twin peaks is depicted as a small town but its population is greater than that of every city in west virginia including the state capital

 eating shark

 thought of my own intelligence as 'frightening'

 thought while walking to class that ginger ale should be made public domain

 had the stitches on my chin removed today, touched the scar tissue for the first time

 i miss being in therapy

 i love carpet

 i love carpet !!

 just thought about my own tweets and lol'd

 mood lately very fragile

 this is what i get for staying up til 5 am

 all night i've felt a wave of dread swelling up, now it's really hitting me

 sound of laughter in public still frightening + unnerving

 my instinct for when to unfriend people on facebook has adapted so that i unfriend people over statuses that make me feel no emotions at all

 fuck, im feeling so much terror

 gucci mane was born 3 days before conor oberst

 the other day i mentioned that i was a poet and this vape guy interrupted me to say "and you didnt know it" and i went fucking nuclear

 interacted with mailman who was picking up mail as i was trying to mail chapbooks, he didnt notice at first that i was talking to him

 what if old people have secrets

 my dad is making me root for a football team but im in pain emotionally

 i feel guilty in general

 thought of my poem "portrait of a nation without any people" as the "lead single" for my full length; it appeared in potluck 14 months ago

 im close friends with satan rn

 feel like travis scott never intended for people to spell his name with a $

 from now on every time i get honey on something ill list the thing in this thread

 finger

 desk

 coffee cup exterior

 pajama pants

 knee

 carpet

 chin

 phone

 shirt

 shoe

 thought that my elderly geography prof. moves by "shuffling"

 feeling shorter, broader

 the only part of the new bright eyes box set i want is the booklet

 is there a booklet? i know there are nvr b4 sn photos

 the song "lime tree" came to conor oberst in a dream

 i like citing things in MLA

 i write essays by pretending im werner herzog

 doesnt seem to be getting later

 lit professor gave my project (sequence of 6 sonnets) a C, i wish she would have gotten me expelled, shelley + ginsberg both were expelled

 heard someone in another room ask "where's wal-mart?" as if wal-mart were a person whose location could change

 i think i just swallowed a filling while eating popcorn, i am very scared, please help

 crazy how things get worse

 there are people on my floor having tons of fun and im upset

 bit my mattress while sitting in the chair next to my bed

 weird that chance the rapper only has 2.4 million followers when he's sort of one of the most famous artists in the world rn

 also weird that donald trump has made 34,000 tweets, seems like an incredibly large number

 the strangeness of yesterday was, for me, augmented by people on the internet talking about a tv show that ive never seen or heard about

 the sunlight is obscene

 im so upset about the sun being so bright im afraid to go outside

 im glad im the only poet who likes trailer park boys

 i slept in a blanket fort under my bed and havent left it all day

 yr = your ur = you're

 my favorite things are pdfs

 now that ive adapted my living space to allow me to never leave my blanket fort i feel like my roommate, omar, exists in a parallel universe

 i hear him but i never see him

 i love latte art, i drink many lattes

 thought that twitter "isn't worth it" in an upset tone while drinking mtn dew

 felt pleasant considering uniqueness of all parent-offspring relationships

 went through my closet + made sure all shirts and jackets were zipped/buttoned

 my blanket is generating flashes of light from static electricity

 record store guy became visibly sick of me several months ago; feel a little guilty every time i enter his store to spend money

 i prefer EPs

 felt "out of control" walking downhill listening to dead kennedys with headphones

 writing an essay is difficult because idk how much relevant information other people have already considered / moved on from

 have been wanting to write at least one poem inside my blanket fort but i don't think it's going to happen, i don't know why

 the internet isn't big enough

 usually when i think "i dont understand the uproar about [event]" i realize there is no "uproar"

 "uproar" is media's way of manipulating the public spotlight and distracting people from important tasks

 feeling helpless + melancholy after dying 15 times and killing 2 stormtroopers in star wars battlefront

 the only way to attain conor oberst-level emo hair is to lay in bed and sob for hours

 i'm sad

 my mom was confused when i told her my first book comes out today

 was luis neer in odd future

 thought "sometimes i just want to end it and start all over" in an exasperated tone re my goodreads account

 becoming increasingly convinced it would be best for me personally to take myself extremely seriously/never joke about myself

 thinking that my tweets would seem terrible if i were a senator/governor/other politician

 imagined doomsday device for future @starwars movies: the "death train," a normal train that exists in space and destroys planets

 how does anyone do it

 in science fiction movies, spacecraft usually look like shopping malls

 everyone in the world is high except me

 feel like i want to have poems published immediately

 having delusions of grandeur

 im sitting on my record player

 my most-used word in 2016 was "bleak"

 prepared and ate garbanzo beans w a lot of rosemart at 2:00 AM

 my brother has a friend over and is being mean to the friend

 all i want for christmas is to never cheer up, ever

 watching eyes wide shut and hugging duckuc

 my nose feels like it's going to bleed

 im sad because every bf looks like me

 getting better at eating ice cream by punching it with my tongue

 the internet is too freaky...

 i think 2017 will be a year of realizing things

 im watching the angry birds movie

 the angry birds movie is so shitty... why was it made...

 ive never had a new years kiss

   2017

   im weird

 eating medicinal ice cream

 im not going to do any drugs in 2017

 made a medicinal phone call

 i want to drink some blood

 i dreamed that roger ebert wrote a negative review of life after ppl and called it "liner notes"

 years dont kill people

 feel inexplicably/explicably really scared about the future of my poetry career

 i've felt stoned since i was a baby

 downloading google earth

 made eye contact in starbucks with possible luis neer incarnation from ~50 years in future; bon jovi "dead or alive" played through speakers

 realised that at some point in the future i will become extremely interested in watching football

 i recommend reading poems extremely slowly while touching the text with your middle finger/index finger

 experiencing cognitive dissonance

 used phonetic clues to correctly predict meaning of & use the word "tandem" while discoursing with myself internally

 i miss steel pedal guitar sounds on conor oberst songs

 my previous incarnation "college luis neer" has evolved to become "high school luis neer-like luis neer in college setting"

 thought "man, i got to stop caring what people think about me" in an emphatic tone that seemed confusing/interesting

 mediocore

 beyonce is cool i think

 i want to re-read "v for vendetta" and to not tweet about it

 remembered that i own a pinata

 i will be at awp

 how could i make twitter a better place

 i saw 4 people wearing yeezys in dc this weekend

 feeling increasingly self-conscious about how much i use the phrase "in the world" or refer to "the world" in poems

 felt robot-like while attaching detachable headphones cord to my headphones while wearing the headphones

 watching shepherd univ lacrosse team practice from "safety of" student center

 i invented releasing two chapbooks in one day

 im dumber than me

 reasoned mentally that im more likely to produce accurate drawings of myself because "i basically look like a bird, so i just draw a bird"

 i want to have a "fake tweet" (e.g. a simple phrase) to tweet repeatedly every time i feel urged to tweet an uninformed/unimportant opinion

 my fake tweet for the foreseeable future will be "i dropped my textbook in the stairwell". when i tweet this it means i have an opinion

 i dropped my textbook in the stairwell

 does anyone remember the chapter of "the hobbit" where bilbo avoids starvation by ingesting peanut butter, honey, cherry nyquil, and water

 sensed that all my college friends just simultaneously shifted from having vague/non-serious negative feelings about me to hating me

 resulting from continuous building of irrepressible/inevitable conjecture in the friends' conscious thoughts

 eating chicken and squash

 i click on 100% of poetry links tweeted by poets i follow

 when i was writing Waves i was obsessed with waves (e.g. energy waves, frequencies) and used the word "waves" at least ~10 times every day

 i dropped my textbook in the stairwell

 white nike swooshes on shoes of boy in library look vibrant/magical

 terrified of being cool

 walked to library really slowly while listening to noise music through big headphones

 i was really, really yung when i started publishing and i'm still really yung

 2 chainz always looks like he's walking in an airport

 i have 5 twitters

 i didnt know what bill paxton looked like, i was thinking RIP gene hackman

 why doesnt anyone blog about me

 thesis statements arent real

 thinking about my book

 i deleted both my tumblrs by accident

 sad about my tumblr

 my name is all over the internet

 im a lizard

 someday there'll be no more ppl

 a lot of conor oberst song titles have parentheses

 feeling sad about the actions of my clone, who passed away

 idk how to use venmo or what it is

 present-day tumblr is like the end of the never ending story where atreyu is talking with the rock biter and the nothing is swirling around

 when someone, anyone, is upset with me im afraid im going to be assassinated

 the views-era apple music ads that depict drake working hard in the studio have really affected and inspired me

 on tumblr i have 4 followers

 almost all of my tweets seem unimportant

 feel that if someone told me that one of my tweets made them upset i would just apologize and delete it

 ground control to commander venus

 i like my new tumblr

 i would be wearing a cardigan rn but i dont have one

 feel that i will continue to generate bright eyes-related content throughout my life

 is everything ok

 i look like michael moore