this is a warm up, that is a warm up. this is a reading blog. do i know how to read, check. then you ask yourself do i have time to do this. probably not but no one is a fan of checklists so lets move along. oh text, oh overwhelming piles of text with no breaks and no fluency and no poetry. no paragraphs and all sentences you inspire me because you are always black and white and you do not require me anything. to stare at you is to be busy. if my mother were television and my father the internet. one always giving and one always receiving then would my grandparents have yet to be invented. is my grandfather an interactive video game or a radio? does technology move ahead, away or with me. it takes me away. this is me being taken away and i will update you how. by now you know the scene. my two hands are at the keyboard, my eyes are on the screen or momentarily off. my right ring finger often visits the upper right of the keyboard to return to mistakes and the thumbs clack away at the space bar. my left thumb has a preference for the keyboard space bar. i type much slower but erase much less with my right hand using the space bar. my head, she is empty. she is dull and she is bored. my head is a sailboat and new york is the coast of maine and the winds of the economy blow. today i am wearing a v neck tee, my ever present silver mexican guy chain i have fleece sweatpants and my feet stink way down there. my laptop warms my legs and hums a tune to me while i click away at the loneliness and boredom. here i dont get paid to be bored, but other places i do. sometimes i am learning when i am bored and other times i m so far away from you or me that when i come back i am dancing in my chair and passers by take a mental note that the boy is a little crazy. and yes i probably am. thats ok. as long as its under control and i can make a living and appear to be normal. as long as i am warm and full and can speak and dont hurt the other people. sometimes people deserve it though, but i wont do it. wow, this is crazy and i should probably stop. it has been a rough day. people all over the world are pushing out of winter. you could make a good living telling people its almost spring in early march. i would pay to hear someone say it, but we all know its not true. that reminds me. i want to go home and i want alot of money. i dont like it here and i dont like the grind. first you hustle and then you grind. then you get ground the fuck up and you dont know who you are or where you are. you feel like youve been here before but you havent it. you feel like you know what youre doing but you dont. you feel like you have room to breathe but theres no point because this air is being filtered through a nose that has fried and dried snot in it. there is bolognia in the back of my throat. it is dissolving and mixing with the mucus and when i swallow it is the same as eating a bolognia sanwich and so i have been sitting here swallowing my spit and eating sandwich after sandwich. this is the diary i should have had a million years ago. this is new york international. accessable and difficult and boring, but amazing and new and so isolated and alienated. you could make a connection here but it is probably too late now. you would probably have to start over. so the last thing im going to say is that im not even trying, this isnt even hard or fun or anything i am only doing this to say i did it and to kill time. i should be getting paid for this, but then i would try hard and it would ruin everything so instead i am going to bitch in my mind for a long time tomorrow. i will need caffeine and i wont need any negativity from my rocks. rocks cant be negative, they can only hold you down and read you. well read this and then you'll know.