earlier I felt like writing suddenly. Something is very clearly and readily changing within me, even just from this little brief moment spent on the train. I feel the social contagion kicking in. i feel parts of me protesting to stand out. I feel parts of me wanting to delete all the appps from my phone so as to elevate myself above these masses who appear to be content wtih scrolling for the duration of the train ride. I won’t do these things, because I know that in private i’m just like them. No better and no worse. I’m exactly the same as every other person on this train. I think I have a tendency to make grand statements and then overcorrect. The one thing on the verge of always turning into the other thing. Whatever that fucking word is. Enantopoieieieaa or whatever the fuck. The yin and the yang. The we’re so back to it’s so over pipeline, the piepline that moves in both directions constantly. It’s never really going in any one direction. It’s always going back and forth. Regurgitating. How does that relate to our digestive system as a pipeline? Is that even a worthy thing to think of? I wonder. I just wonder is all. I wonder also if I should take a look at theeeee uhhhhh that, thee ee e e euhhhh at the essay i wrote, the five thousand word essay i wrote the other day while high and standing at theeeee standing desk that i had crafted and uhhhhh should i get into that and edit it into something that is more substantilalllyyy readily able to stand on its own? I wonder. I wonder. It could be sort of fun. Maybe I’lll just fucking do it. I could leave in the whole like typos and stuff, or i could just edit and not be so precious about my wrting. The writing doesn’t need to preserve itself in any one way. I want to remind myself of defacement ;i don’t need to preserve that original stream of consciousness exactly the way in which it was first writtne, do I? I don’t need to do any such thing. I just need to keep going andd doing what neeeeeds to be done, which is obvious to me in each moment even when my conscious mind seems to question every part of it and ask me if i should really be thinking differently, thinking about the mechaniscs and epspecifics and details fo things… but it utltimately doesn’t matter, those details, and they’re all just details aren.t tttheyyeyeyyy…… so let’s just go ahead and get into editing, then. But the problem is i have all these possible pyring eyes in the train that might want to read what i’m writine and editing. But i also don’t care about that i should be so lucky as to finally have an audience, shouldn’t i? So let’s just get into it, then. edited days later