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Aerospace Journalist Stream of Consciousness What Is This That This Is Qu’est-ce-que-c’est

Giorgi. Conferences. Hair. Constant stimulation. Infomercials. Feeling insecure. Turning off the TV. Remembering a moment that seemed important at the time. Walking down sidewalks. John Casey. Proper Nouns. Magazines. Information. Feeling unneeded. Feeling a need to explain that since I am editing this and realizing how people will read it and it is not feeling unneeded in general but feeling unneeded at this moment in time, as I am sitting because of a conference in Anaheim in an empty hotel room. But I suppose it is not empty because I am in it. But isn’t that telling. Back to the unedited and unexpanded. The condensed idea. Things get higher level on the second draft, don’t they. The idea of feeling confident. Fashion. Feeling like you have no identify when you are alone. (That is what was telling about the room.) Trying to write. Listening to the silence. Trying to listen to the silence. Trying to focus on one thing. Hunger. Incapability of focusing for an extended period of time. Incapability of doing everything. Wondering how I have succeeded thus far at anything. Realizing it is close to everything I have succeeded at by persistence. Saying that not with hubris. Wondering. Sighing. Looking at the t-shirt. Being unable to think anything else. Trying to think nothing at all. n. It works. It feels like a movie frame. Let’s go back to it. n. The not-vision eyes-closed screen of black flickers green. My stomach feels empty. I worry about my sister in law whose mother has cancer and who won’t eat. She must heel hungry a lot. She would cure it with a chard juice. I would drink a chard juice if I had it. Being in L.A. Having trouble doing anything. Having done lost of little things just today already when I think about it, but the seeming impossibility of doing anything afterwards from this moment on. Is this caused by Kim Kardashian? Fake alliterative names. Getting things by persistence. Always being unsatisfied. Not hating myself. Not hating everything. (This is what I am reduced to in moments when alone.) Reading Job. Having friends. Loving them a lot. Like anyone else and everyone else. No reason to describe it because it’s universal.  What will it be like tomorrow. Wondering if I’ll be able to sleep. Thinking I should set intentions. The small things: wake up, go to turn off the alarm. Drink water. Brush teeth and face and put on makeup. Dress in outfit. Pack bag and check email. Plan the plan of attack. Set up camera. Take picture of outfit. Go to breakfast bravely. Eat. Come up with questions for airlines according to plan. How the addict I read about, name: Clune, who spoke with Tao Lin, author of a fiction book about Taipai, how he would write notes to himself, lists of things that are good to do, and then do them when cued by the post-it notes about the house. Like: eat a banana, go for a walk. Etc. Little post-it notes around the house. How what I am doing right now is trying to calm myself down by making my thoughts external to myself, written. How it is working. Feeling like I have some control, some agency. Feeling too-self aware. Feeling I am too focused on feelings. Thinking about the words again. Wanting to go back. Thinking in circles. How this is like being selfish: getting mad at everything because you are too focused on yourself. Weird ideas. Like the she he-man at the Make Out Room, which is more like a lounge or disco, who talked about mice who are immune to fiction. How me and that writer-girl don’t like too-normal of fiction. How she believes that manners and respect in American culture are too lax. How I agree but enjoy getting away with being lax, all the while feeling guilty about it in this American culture. Wondering if our culture really likes guilt or not. Realizing why the dicussion group: because it expands and broadens beyond what is happening to me when I sit inside myself. The ping-pong of ideas. Feeling glad I can because as stated it is hard for me to do any action when I am completely solitary as I feel that I don’t exist. The problem of thinking not-existing is possible and that it occurs when I am alone. Remembering the winter. The winter alone. The cold winter. It snowed seven times. It is easier to write in small sentences when trying to get outside the self. Like taking small steps. You can’t get too lost if you take short steps, but with words you can still get far. The difference between how actions look externally and what is taking place metaphysically. For example: how “reporting” or “research” looks only like a person sitting in a room. The whole work world. Revenues. I wonder how my husband thinks. He thinks the way I think is weird I think. Or funny. The whole work world, returning to that thought. How revenues have to rise every quarter above what they were the previous quarter and the seeming impossibility of that when all businesses need to do it, and not just the ones feeding off the ones who, in a more possible world, don’t need to do that. That is real though, I guess: public companies versus non-public companies without stockholders. Mind getting too crowded. Hate thinking. Hate talking to people one-on-one. So hard to focus on what they’re saying. Overwhelming. But hate being alone too. What do I like? Reading. Writing is OK. Reading is like listening but to something you deeply care about and you can control the pace and rewind, fast forward or slow down. In that way, reading is power. Thinking I should read a book. That would be good. The feebleness of my mind. My husband will understand once he reads this. How Sarah says she is thinking, constantly, and I say, about what, and she says, my mind is just going, reading, worrying. I realize that is what this is like which is a way that I am not all the time. But sometimes. How the quote about if a man has too many identities he will become confused about which one he is real. How that is me all the time. How John Casey says 10 days alone is enough then you need to be around people. How only a few hours is too much for me. Just don’t know. Time to go to bed. Deciding to read. Noting that reading isn’t salvation. Because it is just getting outside one self to go into other people’s projected selves and how you have to rise above that. Not wanting to preach. Going to bed.

From stretched jacket button, lip synching to the seemingly unnecessary bar goers and lyrics, literally everything in this video is awkward.