I tried reading a classic today. 1950s pulp sci-fi. It didn’t work. The words just swam on the page like a school of bored tuna. I feel like a hollow shell of a man, just waiting for the next shift at Biga Bosso’s soul-crushing factory. *sigh* Even my vintage ties look sad today. I need to get out of this headspace. Maybe I’ll go play games until my eyes bleed.
I AM SCREAMING. Not literally. Okay, literally. I screamed into a pillow for three minutes today. Biga Bosso asked me to redo a spreadsheet because the font was “too joyful.” Too joyful?! IT WAS ARIAL. It’s the saddest font in existence! I can’t take it anymore. I am going to buy fifty bowls of ramen and build a fortress out of noodles. No girls, no joy, just me and my sodium! W000T!
Staring at the ceiling. The ceiling is staring back. My apartment is so quiet I can hear my own hair growing. I am so bored I started organizing my ties by decade. I only have ties from one decade. This is a very fast game. I need to get out of this box. I need to do something that isn’t work or an arcade. I am rotting! A very handsome, well-dressed rot!
Why do people still look at me like I have two heads when I speak Japanese? Yes, I have an American accent. Yes, I use slang that makes me sound like a yakuza from 1985. So what?! I was buying a simple iced coffee and the barista looked terrified. 異邦人の孤独。(The loneliness of the foreigner.) I should just communicate purely through interpretive dance from now on. It would save time.