August 29, 2026

Tank is full, I found out yesterday. The Zim boys filled it, and diligently brought the key to mom's house, though I gave other instructions. And it's a delicious feeling of freedom (the needle hasn't even crept past Full yet), and today I have to drive down Grant to buy a printer. 

This is one of those memorable distinct times which has as its boundaries things like: my apartment, 1.5 weeks before the art show, Colton and Majd, coffee every morning, the people I'm texting, this cold I have. It's youthful and a bit diffuse.

How you are, your usefulness, happiness, &ct seem to mostly be a function of your age. Try as I might, I'm like this because I'm 23 and I'll be like that when I'm 80. 

I think my grandpa might die. He has a cyst in the brain. Somehow this thought has gotten wrapped up with the promise and sweetness of a girl I was talking to, who isn't even talking to me anymore. I'm not sure how else to deal with it, I guess.