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Date: January 7th, 2020

Time of Writing: Bro this post took a while because I started writing it at 7:35 PM when I started the Chance The Rapper album and I had to wait until the album was done to finish the post

Weather: A little nippy cold-wise but otherwise fine. Clear.

Mood: Absolutely tired and drained.

Day Overview: Today was an interesting day. I had plans today and I even go to bed early so that I could wake up well-rested! Too bad that I still was lying in bed awake for five hours past midnight. I re-listened to a couple albums to keep myself from just getting out of bed and doing something, hoping that the music would lull me to sleep. Pink Moon by Nick Drake is a perennial sad insomniac classic, but Chamomile by Last Holidays is a personal find of mine that I have kept close to my chest for a while, one of my very few albums that I feel like I personally found even though I absolutely didn't, it's more like an album that I think is wonderful that I'm one of the few people that has actually paid any attention to.

Anyway, that's not the point. When I woke up after my last alarm at 10:30 I was forced to confront the plans my past self had made. I was supposed to be hanging out with Edward and we would check out this cool monument that was pointed out on a Discord server for a meme that just happened to be near me. We'd go and have a fun adventure and everything would be cool and good and fine. When he called me to check if I was awake I cancelled my plans almost immediately, citing my late awakening and general feeling of blahness. It took me three minutes and as many toaster waffles to realize that I'd made a terrible mistake and I called him back. He picked me up in his car a couple hours later. I wanted us to get some ramen noodles but he already had lunch so i just got McDonalds. Except of course it wasn't that simple.

We were talking in the car and hanging out when all of a sudden he takes a hand off the wheel to hand me a candy fish. I decline, because why the hell would I encourage him taking his hand off the wheel. We were stopped, but I didn't really care. Between you, the entire world, and I, Edward is an alright driver, but he doesn't have enough experience with me to be okay with him taking his hands off the wheel to give me candy fish. Despite this, he kept handing them to me. At one point I took it just to see if eating it would make him stop. It was terrible. I didn't eat anymore after that, and he kept handing them to me. After a point I just started finding them everywhere. In my jacket pockets, in my coat hood, I thought he put one under my hat for a bit, but I was wrong, but when we came up from McDonalds they were all over the seat - he didn't stop with the joke until we were in Charlestown and standing right in front of the sculpture.

It's a statue of some potatoes or something but the point isn't sculpture - which is just a few sculpted bags of potatoes stacked up on top of each other, I would have easily missed them if Edward hadn't used his much sharper eyesight and clearly superior intellect (hehehehe) to point them out to me. They blended in with the general industrial decay of the surrounding C-Town area, and also the two shopping carts full of empty beer bottles and empty beer cans (separated from one another, mind you, one kind of container per shopping cart) parked right next to it. No, what drew my attention to this statue was the absurdity of the plaque sitting under it. Potato Potato Potato Potatoes Potato etcetera

Edward with the potatoes, with cart cameo.
I was hoping for something more interesting, to be totally honest. If the potatoes were stacked higher, for instance, or if the plaque was merely the ad nauseum repetition of the word potato. But potatoes are not interesting. They are inherently one of the simplest things one can eat. A humble fruit of the Earth (not literally a capital-F Fruit but you know what I mean) meant for humble folk to eat. To suggest that a monument to their simple brilliance be anything other than modest to a fault would be sacrilege. We went back to Ed's car, passed a statue of some old general from Ol' Dreaded C-Town, and drove down to his house. Where I currently am. We hung out and read some internet shit and now we're listening to some absolutely garbage music just for shits, he's working on a fiction story he's been writing or at least reading about for a long time and I'm writing this blog post, but it's a chill mood up here. We need to check out some more monuments sometime.

On My Mind: The two worst parts about sleep are getting to bed and waking up. If I could flip a switch and automatically sleep, or if I could wake up whenever I wanted to, then the state of being asleep wouldn't be that much of an issue. Actually, it'd be pretty great! I'd be able to recharge my batteries whenever I wanted and any notion of having a schedule would be absolutely irrelevant to my actual lifestyle if I so desired. However, real life doesn't work that way. It's unfortunate, but on some level I need to sleep in order to function properly. In spite of this even when I need to sleep my body doesn't quite catch on so I lay in bed for a while. And then the phone comes out and the inevitable is prolonged. When it's finally time to wake up I just shut off my alarm and go back to bed, and then when I finally do crawl out of bed I just feel like garbage because I slept the whole day away! I'm sorry for rambling about the same thing for two days in a row. This is a precursor to an essay that I'll get around to writing sometime about why sleep is bad and needs to be immediately cancelled but until that I'll try not to talk about sleep anymore. Ughhhhhh.

Consumed:

• The Big Day by Chance the Rapper: I must be some sort of sociopath. What rational person looks at the music they've listened to and decides Hmm, this needs more garbage! Yeah, I could do with more bad music in my life, I like too much of what I hear, I need to spice things up with a negative emotional reaction now and then. The problem with that is that this album isn't out and out bad. The lyricism on here from Chance is absolutely lacking on every front, the album concept is tacky and corny as fuck, but the beats, overproduced as they are, are more pleasant to listen to than not. The features are a welcome addition to every track they're on. The skits are dumb but honesly a welcome change in pace. There is a blueprint here of something that could have been fine, even good, but that's all buried under a tragic inability to follow through. Honestly not as bad as I'd heard, but still not good. And it's way too long; if you're going to be this painfully mediocre, at least be merciful with the length of your project. 3/10. (and there was a video of Antique Rusty Cleaver Restoration at the end of the playlist? what the hell)

Produced: I actually wrote some words, probably around three hundred or so? A very, very small amount, for outside of this blog post, but it was more than what I'd been doing for the past few days. Time is running out on fixing up the profile revisions that I have to do for one of the things and I don't really know if I have the motivation in me to do them but I'm going to at least try? To be honest I'm kind of forcing myself to write that thing anyway. Whatever. I'm sure it'll turn out fine.

Other Thoughts: Wow, one whole week for the blog! Add a few days onto that for the soft fumbling what the hell is going on launch of the website and I've been at this for almost two weeks. It takes about two months on average for a new habit to form (not the most accurate source but at least I have one lol) and I'm almost well on my way to start that journey! Thank you for reading.