It's now sept 6th. It's 3:12 A.M. we've reached the point beyond pretend. This shit is starting out like star trek. Let me start over.
Fuck man, those lights with the lasers pause my mind to think nothing. Do nothing. Live in a bubble of suck.
I miss my own internal monologue and the excitement of everything that used to happen inside my head.
I'm in agreement with the producers, the way out is artwork. Just vlog and blog the thing and they're going to let me off this insane show. Pretty obvious it's a show again, like in the beginning I see the lasers and try to dodge them. They really, really fucking hurt.
I wonder how this show will work. I wonder how on the outside world this shit is broadcasted 24/7. I live in a dazzle of arrays on attempts to create a bridge back home to Williamsburg. To reality. I want to get my shit done tonight w/indoor matters so I can jump out tomorrow. It's fucking absurd/annoying to deal with the lasers on the inside this apartment. Yesterday when "paul" (cause none of these people are using their real names) came over and bended over with the "katrina" and "miguel" characters it was disturbing pretend Brady Bunch ass fucking adventure theme of the myspace/facebook picture generation.
I need to escape. I know when I'm looking directly @ the camera, or the fucking light psycho therapy that it's getting to be an issue. Battery takes an hour to charge. Eat breakfast now.