Observations and Violent Whales

My closet has four sliding mirrors for doors. My bed faces the closet, so when I’m sitting up I can look over my laptop and see my blurry face squinting back at me. Tonight, I’ve stuffed myself in about 8 cardigans and smooshed my neck pillow under my head so I look like a little brunette Raggedy Ann who slipped in a super market and is waiting for her settlement check so she can go buy a real leather La-Z-Boy recliner.

I made an iced coffee and I left raw chicken on the counter to thaw. I used to say “dethaw” then I realized that’s not a real word and also redundant. I would turn up the heat in my room but there’s been a mysterious disappearance of our batteries and my thermostat’s “your batteries have been dead for 3 months” warning light faded 6 months ago.

I have a new phone and the storage is already full. I think this might be due in part that I haven’t taken advantage of the iCloud because it scares me and I don’t want people to hack my photos and see all the screenshots of terrible songs I take. Terrible in the opinion of other people. I think they’re great songs, otherwise I wouldn’t have taken screenshots of them. I would like to maintain an air of mystery though, even if I talk about my dumps on the regular.

I listen to a lot of soundscape radio. If someone raided my phone, they would see a lot of pictures of my car’s radio display with songs like “Dolphins Playing” and “Mother Nature’s Bosom” turned up to 11.  I listen to it a lot when I don’t want to sit in silence but  also don’t want to listen to any one talk. I have some subliminal soundscape songs on my phone. One is kindling/fire crackling and it’s the best but there’s one on there that is fucking horrifying and I can only describe it as “violent whales.” It’s not the melodic tones of mommy whale singing to her baby. It’s like 600 angry orcas screeching at each other at a crowded orca fight club. Every time it comes on, I picture a anthropomorphized whale, standing on it’s back fin, head wrapped in a bandana, holding a shank it carved out of fishbone, ready to brawl. The violent whales track comes in about an hour into the soundtrack and I wake up out of a goddamn dead sleep every time it comes on. I posted it on my Twitter, if you like nightmares. (@LoloVonK)

Now that I’ve wasted two hours eating dates and trying to suck up the last of the sugar at the bottom of my iced coffee, I’m going to go catch up on the Walking Dead even though I’m routinely three episodes behind. Four is too many, two is too few, three gives me just enough anxiety about being behind everyone without making me want to give up on the series.

Do you listen to anything weird? What types of photos would you be embarrassed of if anyone saw them? (Nudies not included.)

Okay, I love you, don’t let a killer whale stab your heart out.

Yes, Pigs Do Have Bank Accounts

Hey. Hi. How are ya?

Good. I’m happy. I sucked down a bunch of coffee and I’m wearing a men’s tank top because fuck the establishment. I’m not really sure what that means because I had a meatball sub yesterday instead of going to the gym because that’s all that matters.

Am I crazy? I don’t know, do pigs not have 401Ks? I think the proof is in the partridge in a pear tree.

But back to my tank top. It’s of outer space, which I’m feeling resentful of, but it has kittens riding slices of pizza. Nothing has ever felt so right.

Still with me? Good. Enjoy that beef ravioli.

Until next time, chapstick lovers!