4:18 AM; 3027 Logan—bed
This past week has been full of nightmares. I keep waking wanting to scrub my brain. So rather than toss and turn for an hour, I figured I’d at least attempt to clean my head here. After my last entry, I promptly freaked out about my past mistakes and liking Molly too much too soon. I barely know her and am burdened with U-hauling instincts. Thanks, chemistry, or whatever the fuck. Sap Tapping poems come to mind. I had to wait the whole weekend—until last night—to see her again and thankfully found relief from my anxiety that I had somehow fucked things up by virtue of spooky science vibes. She was very tactful in reassuring me that she was down for my crazy. We made out in the car with her skeleton Dolores in the bak seat. I’ll see her at my show Thursday.
I’m gonna need to write new material for Thursday and I don’t know what. I was feeling the itch for an essay exploring the myth of lessons through foosball. Actually, I’m gonna give it a shot now. Maybe read some David Sedaris for inspiration.