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Date: March 7th, 2020.

Time of Writing: 9:05 PM.

Weather: Coldish by now, warmish earlier.

Mood: Recovering.

Day Overview: Y'know it didn't look like much would happen today earlier in the morning. Last night was uneventful, I just played some videogames or whatever, but this morning I woke up and people were already getting ready for the activities of the day. I quickly showered and went down for breakfast before coming back up and finding that I'd missed a boat, so to speak, and most people were gone. I watched a bit of a YouTube video about train surfing from Ukraine to the Black Sea, and that was really cool, like how the hell did he get away with that stuff? And then I was walking around when I heard Franko talking to Isaac and his friend Miguel (my roommate and a person on the floor) about my radio show. I went inside and inserted myself in the conversation which, in my defense, was about me, and pretty soon found myself talking about music. Then I found myself in the backseat of a car on the way to a house party. Funny how that happens.

The party is a blur to me. I was there for a couple hours, and most of it was just shambling around in a room full of people moving on a vertical alignment to the rhythm of incredibly loud beats. It was intense. I had to really squeeze to get out of the dance room a few times. We took an Uber over, but we took the bus back, and after putting Frank to bed (he got overwhelmed, lets say) and after I fell on the ground once and got mud on my jeans, then we got a late lunch, which was absolutely heavenly. I napped then for a few hours, and just recently woke up to go to dinner. I don't know if I'm going to go to the party tonight, I think I'm a little worn out. Well, if I do, you'll know about it.

On My Mind: A haze. A big cloud of unknowing filtering through the canals of my mind. It moves like a low cloud, a rolling wave of fog, pure gray and indistinct. There are no thoughts here - or if they are, they are horribly, terribly obscured. If there was such a thing as negative productivity, it is currently occuring in my brain. My hair clings to my head in clumps. I can't get it to look right. My hair is attached to my head, which also doesn't feel like it's attached correctly. Maybe I just need to sit for a few hours and digest and regain the ability to think. I probably shouldn't be allowed within three feet of a coding terminal. IDE or whatever. All terms and names for all things are caught in the haze like castaways in a frigid ocean. This is where I float; I don't know how to swim.

Works Consumed: Works In Progress:

Works Produced: A lengthy argument on whether or not one's own individual opinion or the will of the collective people is more important in a conversation about music. Is one's particular emotional response important, or is the attention of people, does popularity indicate quality? Personally I'm inclined to say I made the better argument. It feels like the other participant just went in circles trying to deny my premise, but couldn't actually refute it and resorted to insults. And I held myself all the better, saying at the end that the argument was between two equally valid ways to listen to music. The high road leads to high ground.

Other Thoughts: Thank you for reading my blog. Apologies for being such a mess today. I'll make up for it tomorrow.