042019 Libby’s been sick for 5 weeks and they can’t help us. Millie’s lungs chronically hurt and they can’t help us. Megan has bouts of crippling insecurity and depression and they can only sort of help a little. Our fat ugly trashy disgusting neighbors are puking their putrid smoke into our house I want to move but moving is stressful and expensive and there aren’t many good choices that I can afford I’m always behind on work and if I lose my job we’re fucked I feel fat and old and gross and I don’t have any real friends Apple products don’t make me happy anymore Digital shit is making us all sick No matter how many times I adjust my covers, the sheet is still a foot and a half higher than the blankets My neck hurts I ALWAYS have to pee. 041019 what if rochambo wuz the one exception—the one place that never got mediocre and disappeared off the plane of astonishment— what if megan could work here and it would be golden, and her kid could work here and it would be platinum— from the days of smoke to the days of cart to the days of—what? artificial chimp scrotums? dude whatever. I’m old, i’m tired, thinking about shit just doesn’t do it for me anymore. There’s got to be something else. Yabut I’ve been saying that for years. That’s the horror of the place that never dies, never gets old. If the perfect cafe never ceases to exist, you never have to stop going there. 040319 i hate people who eat gross junk food loudly in indoor public spaces