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.