I’M FUCKING TIRED
Tonight on the tired bus ride home between Ballard and Capitol Hill, I found myself thinking, randomly, with no thought or foresight, “devolving myopic mediocrity”. The phrase makes no sense. Again I looked up, as I have before, and spotted myself like a shade in the window. After 11, when I have worked the painful long hours needed to continue to pay rent on my room, I never ever recognize myself. There isn’t the same surprise that’s always described in books. The sensation is exactly like the sensation of thinking of a phrase, “devolving myopic mediocrity” at random. The two are the same - spontaneous and exhausted escapes from the self, the moment were over work and intelligence split, the place where I am not strong enough to be intelligent any longer.
Earl Sweatshirt “IFHY” (but I love you, I’m bad at keeping my emotions bubbled, you’re good at being perfect, we’re good at being troubled.)
