Today I tried the viral burrito from the viral burrito spot. As I was eating it I couldn't stop thinking "Today I'm trying the viral burrito from the viral burrito spot," like it was an incantation.

Thoroughly enjoyed the Thomas Ruff show at Zwirner. I felt an uneasy longing for the formal quality of low-res pixel photos, mesmerized by eensy squares of color gradually merging into images of tragedy and rubble... 9/11 only being the beginning of so much more to come. A mere 2 blocks away, at Gagosian, more Twin Towers photos, this time tucked alongside AI Koons porn and Shrek the Musical. That show I didn't care for. Still, two sides of the same post-ironic coin.

Ended the afternoon in the neighborhood of my old college observing all its new additions. We are all aboard the Ship of Theseus and it's certainly not the same. It's not about logic. You can just feel it.

Tipsy after a gallery opening dinner, aimless as I'm wont to be, I felt what a delight it is to move my body across New York in service of commitment. If you're lucky, love calcifies into routine.

I avoided mentioning him, even to my blog shared with no one, for fear that a mere allusion would cause the whole thing to crumble. Now all that remains is the suffering that accompanies the end of another.. schizoid to depressive. Singing parody songs about him slipping in the shower is proving effective.

I keep asking robots what I should do and if I'm any good. Everyday I'm submerged by doubt and then doubt whether I should be doubting. In this escape room we call life..

Now thinking about boys from other schools. Not actual boys, no one in particular, the concept. "Boys from other schools." In Steps to Destruction, Emily Allen sings "You look like the boys who did not go to my school." Yes, there were no artsy boys my year in highschool, and I'm still reaping the consequences. I keep going for ones now who would've attended the art school and wouldn't have known or cared I was alive. I remembered that there's a short film out there of me acting as a girl trying to get this skaterboy to notice her, not realizing that she's already an object of affection to someone who loves her back--her patient girl friend who she keeps dragging to the skatepark in hopes of seeing him. That was filmed almost 10 years ago. I've graduated from women's college since. Tomorrow I think I'm going to finally confront my therapist. He's been terribly inconsistent with me but I pay the guy.

Acquired a new schoolcrush. Despite having scarcely recovered from last week's cold, I had a cig after class in hopes he'd join me. The plan worked. My anemia is dissipating.

Thought 1: After months of obsession, I'm excited to host a Tuscan themed girls night this week. I think my fascination stems from how its untethered to any reality the aesthetic tries to nostalgically conjure; even the videos under the hashtag can't agree on a single cohesive vision. Ostensibly the tuscan aesthetic is an an ode to the terracotta mcmansions of the 2000's, but the hashtag mostly just contains montages of pumpkin spice, warm showers, cheetah print, decorative peppers in jars, and barnes and noble. The tuscan aesthetic embodies the hazy incoherence of memory itself.. a search for familiar symbols in the trenches of perpetual loss. Comfort!

Another reason why I love it is because it scratches my autumnal itch. Every fall I become pleasurably insane. Everything feels new again, my intuition is at its most clear, and everyday life is most obviously balanced by beauty and death. These strange internal eruptions are a seasonal rite. It's hard for me to articulate it exactly but I'm sure it's relatable anyway, because the changing of the seasons leaves its transcendent residue on us all. Anyway, I mention this all because the autumness of #tuscan feels related to its naive postmodernism. Without a sense of religion or meaning to guide us, all this feeling gets transmuted into vibe assemblage. I guess at the end of the day I just find it strange and wonderful to exist at the same time of #tuscan. Also I think the midwestern emo cover of resonance that accompanies each reel is really funny.

Thought 2: Ovulation feels just like how The Purple Bottle by Animal Collective sounds. My sister and I keep telling eachother "Can I tell you that you are the purple in me?" Purple is a very autumnal color..... the halting of passion and such.....

Leaning into the mystery of things as opposed to the problem. For matters of the psyche, intuition is more apt than logic.

Possesed by angst today. After work I lied down in Sheepshead Meadow and stared at fat clouds while listening to The Skin Cells. My mind attempted to link large abstractions but I couldn't seem to hold on to or verbalize what kept the orbs of ideas together. Too much noise.

Our desires are habitual that’s why trends repeat.

Infinity bar Pleasant moments