Journal #003


We eventually escaped from a day that felt like we fell inside of a shard of infinity. When we finally burst out the other side, we were exhausted, wiped out, used, spent, pushed away, cast off into the boring December rainfall. And now for the remainder of this evening, I’ve been unable to think of anything but an extremely specific line uttered by Joan Cusack in that ridiculously quintessential 80s movie Say Anything:

“There’s no food in your food.”

When you are engaged in conversation with a person that feels like they checked out years before they even stumbled upon you, like they abandoned any posture in which they are able to feign interest in anything but themselves, it feels like you are speaking to a husk of a human that exists only to consume every speck of air in the room in service of inflating their ego. These conversations and these humans lack nutrients. They are void of any vitamins. They provide you with zero caloric intake. There’s no food in your food.

Tomorrow will be better.