boundaries

I've been thinking about Infinite Jest and Southland Tales often, but less about the movie and more of the general mood it evokes. At the intersections of their venn diagrams lies a certain je ne sais quoi, atmosphere, attitude, feeling, touch, like a casual twist of the head seen far away on a street. No, it's less of an atmosphere and more of an remnant of invocation, like the smell of stale coffee lingering in a room where someone just smoked, or the faint smell of burnt-ness in a pot of overcooked rice. Delillo and Pynchon share this sense as well.. sprawling metropolis, deliberately fragmented narrative..

The other day someone asked me if I wanted to be an artist. I replied, "yeah, I guess? at the time. In actuality, however, I would like have replied and said "yeah?" with the end of the word -ah? rising upwards and upwards into the sky without end, like tail recursion unkempt and infinite. Some sort of answer=question=I don't the fuck know. What does that word mean? I feel like I haven't heard it said out loud in a long time.

I feel strange lately, like I'm unable to distinguish between exterior and interior, inside and outside. My eyes are turning transparent. I am becoming porous.