last night i dreamt that i kept saying “fuck” around my roommate’s mother, who IRL doesn’t approve of that. the strange anxiety of moving slowly through a dream.
maybe I just forgot that stress happens. every time i sit at my desk, i write another list of what must be done, to the point that i don’t even care that it is done. i keep reminding myself that i need to put all of these things in perspective; that while i ought to read flaubert’s parrot, it’s not even due until wednesday and the world won’t stop if i do it late. and more...