Some place last summer

I knew the food from before, and I felt full before I started eating it, not full but saturated.

So I realized that I don't know what I want, that I feel disenchanted with this self-created reality loop, with the friend who sits in front of me and pretends to know what he's talking about.

My desk offers comfort because it contains all the tools available to me to be both entertained and useful. I have created a collection of explicit materials, and I am still dwelling on whether to use them.

Last night, I felt grand, as if I could use the current formats to produce the artworks of a lifetime. But this morning, all I wanted to do, besides sports, was watch TV.

2026