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possibly-meaningless · 5 years

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Dailies - Home from home

23.07.19

It’s technically morning, with the fans snoring like pirates in hammocks, or alternatively white rattlesnakes, and the water outside taking it’s turn to blow unevenly on my singular body which cannot sleep. Someone is fading in new lights at the window, just fast enough to get your attention. New Haven, picking an outfit. Not for us, mind you. Never for us. For logics unknown and in no need of explaining, for no sake at all, but certainly decided.

24.07.19

You walk out into the morning which is like drinking from a stream., putrescence consistent, insect karaoke, packed lunch of sandwich and plumb. Your career is waiting in the howling tunnel, but for now you are walking errands and eating sunscreen. Answer your own question, if no one else can, buy what you want for breakfast. I’d rather a life than your kind of efficiency, the grind of a waiter scraping your own.

Je suis complètement larguée, perdue, levée d’ancre, un petit rafiot qui traverse la rue dix fois pour en retrouver un grand, vide, rudimentaire, à peine construit, alors que la nuit grésille et présente des étoiles. Il n’y a pas de maison en mer, et quand vient la fatigue, les seules certitudes qu’il y a ne sont pas reposantes.

25.07.19

It was one of those moments you know can exist, where you receive a long and genuine moment of practical kindness from a cook vinyl collector whose girlfriend sold you plates and glasses, who knew New Haven so pretty well and drove to your street without a GPS, and helped you pick up a table and chairs, and when you listened to music to remantle the table you found your apartment beautiful, and when you left you talked to someone fixing something big and funny in the grass with tape, and walked past the smell of fresh pizza. And if you pay attention you’ll notice your gait is wider, your shoulders back, that loud cars are listening to music they like, and that the power poles sing just as well as cicadas.

26.07.19

Blasted be this bus– bad day I suppose. Learn from mistakes only. I’m torn between a headache and a dedication to being Buddha-like, to mourning the unlikely refund, the upcoming exhaustion on the Uber, Lis’ exhaustion at her work. I chose to be here, yes. And I will make of it what I can. There is no reason not to be, once I have cradled my little suffering, to coo like the toddler in the yellow dress and earrings, you are traveling, you are traveling, your time is never wasted.

It’s as if I cannot be on this Jersey Turnpike at any time but at eye-hitting sunset. As if the world will not allow it. Perhaps it was the first loving thought I had for this place that assigned me to it, and that I am now the sole designated lover of the gold cutouts on the Passaic river, this residence of cars where mere accumulation forms our departing products in the dust. If so, I am to see it as itself, not as a shallow safari of white and red metal birds, not as a child’s toy-strewn floor, the working hand on a veiny body. I am to see it strange billboards and all, a land bent to utility, understanding of its own gas-fumed complexity, tarmaced and bolted, where flatness is walls, having picked me.

27.07.19

Auntland is just so damn well written. And Lis is working god knows where but always impressing me. My friends are beautiful in a way that simply means I love them. She stops in the antique store where I do not, tells the Roman coins to me. How does one organize a store like this, where paintings are stacked, unnamed, painted wood and cursed carved jade? What went on in a Mayan mind, in this unpolished mosaic mirror? We should buy a castle together. We don’t recognize the Manson murders. We eat cumquats from the branch, and figure out how we are gods. I paint, and Eli knows government secrets. The buses are socialist free. Ten meters of crying DiCaprio, whose girlfriends are never over 25. I decide who lives or dies, who gets to take the scooter home. What a delightful Chekov’s gun, what a connection of inanities. And with the would-be limes that glued circles into my palm so that I must fill them with wisteria fuzz, we took to the painted wood and wrote: OAI. And in the Georgetown chalk dust of the building we found nothing exciting at all but sent off our exploring nonetheless, we took the eraser and wrote: OAI.

28.07.19

We buy plums, small and mottled, skin the best, and get them in a plastic bag. We joke about the poem, freezer plums, while the heat gets at my shoulders you touch, use your neck to protect me. The juice flecks our elbows with purple paillettes, and the lace at my breast. I’m intrigued that you like me, intrigued if you like me. A line of sweat rolls down your back from your bra and another from of the fold of my butt. I say, not to you, “see what I meant about fruit?” with the slit of the plum open at my thumb and use my tongue to finish the fleshy pit.

29.07.19

É, T, ohielleu. Je m’appelais comme ça avant. Maintenant il y a à ma place quelqu’un de très bien, mais de complètement différent, en chemises rayées, les yeux fermés au soleil, riant ou riante selon le jour, montant une étagère seul(e) et repensant à ce que moi j’ai senti en me disant ayant sept ou huit ans. Ça me va. Cette person ferme les yeux et voit une photo qui n’existe pas, d’un balcon espagnole en sépia. Elle s’amuse à habiter n’importe comment, et aime beaucoup, tout court, d’une manière que je ne pouvais imaginer que par le biais de moi même. Elle pose toujours des questions, ça c’est bien. Elle pleure d’autres choses que de désespoir. Elle a fait la paix avec elle même, et sait que tellement d’autres trucs vont venir lui foutre dans la gueule. Celle dont elle a le plus peur de voir en colère c’est moi.

30.07.19

The dump outside my apartment seems to be getting fuller every time I go home. Every day, I encounter a new insect. I think « I’ll come back for this later, and if it’s gone, then it’s gone » almost as if I’m thinking it was meant to go. The world has been trying to make me believe in predestination. My bottle of Gamsol spills in my suitcase, but it pools entirely into the dustpan at the bottom. When I lift it up, it spills, but only into the suitcase cover. And it cleans the spray paint off my hands. The ruins of cardboard valleys smell, that is the clearest reminder. They enter a state of being trash and immediately start to smell. I reach into the dumpster for what I need— magpie mind, magpie means. This is the sink I will be drinking in for the next year, and the stove doesn’t work. I walk the cupboards into the house like Easter Island heads.

31.07.19

Warm and sticky, legs and teeth, rain or percussion, swipe and reloading. Misspell a dinosaur. Cool yourself down, cold brownies in the fridge, muggy but just muggy, not hot, waiting for imaginary clothing, talking about drawing clothing, think of opening the window to the wet air, stay pinned by your laptop like by an at-home cat. Film over your teeth, laugh track in a song, chattering gutter, TV-show noises, waiting to go to a task, ignoring the pressing one, pick up your phone, write down a number, stand up, be light headed, sugar nourished.

Skill number one: drink water when you are drunk. Ceaselessly gulp, breathe like a bull into your glass. Why drink, when you are embarrassing enough sober. Blind men would find you bottomlessly stupid. Find the time to find this funny. Laugh about what matters. Think about going dry. See yourself stumble, again and again and again, off the walls, into bed, into formless conclusions.

01.08.19

Something not quite like a headache leaning against the side of my head. It’s the screens, I know that, and maybe the lack of sleep that I intent to maintain, and the beer today after the last night’s Old Fashioned, the earbuds I stole from a lost and found just parsing sound through my ears. My phone screen is sick now too, necrotic pixels growing only when you check, like the pea plant on the windowsill. A vision clouding while I continue to smile, not to sound morbid, of course.

02.08.19

If your body has decided you are going to cry, and no amount or quality of your usual thinking is going to save this (remember, this is also matter of luck and means) find yourself a comfortable place or places to do it. Jaywalk and scowl at the cars, ask the sun for cancer-freckles, worry your music with volume, drop yourself from finger-height like a pill into a glass— any form of cutting off will do. Don’t actually hurt yourself. Learn to recognize the good habits from the bad, the healthy from the fucked, palpate your own side, train yourself to make the right decision.

03.08.19

This place is one big noxious noise and I am not using it to its full effect. I am the one white Bollywood dancer who goes on the dance floor to think. I do this during sex too. My thoughts take monster forms on the dance floor, legged, entering. I dance like a writing, like a thinking, like unlocking the heart of an encyclopedia: Americans dance on their heels, and I would stomp if I wanted to be masculine. Eye contact changes everything, not only for you, especially for others. Look at the two women grinding— couldn’t that be you? Would you know how to give yourself properly to that hand? Would you squirm? Would you fear? You’ve stopped asking if you seem awkward or brave. The question has been eradicated. You’re working out of line, and doing nothing at all. You are looking at the halo lights and watching your carrousel mind melt in a black plastic shape where you’ve decided to put yourself for nothing. Couldn’t you do more? White woman you are, cleavage-key, dancing sexy for the Hindu gods? What a waste.

04.08.19

The sea reminds us the strongest, because every ripple is a mountain where one crest is the sand and another is the sky, because a half of you is pushing through jade hip by hip, because you are driftwood-sun-dried and the water takes your breath in weight or in drowning lap. We are reminded when we sit on rock, and the wind and heat does the all of us, when our bodies are just another thing for the world to be on, when the being there is just being at all, smelling seagull fallings (fish, shit) while the ocean talks to itself.

05.08.19

We dolly our furniture in dark processions, clack and bonking from pavanent to pavement, sweating evenly. Once again a ferry, this time two-manned, this time jolly, stopping traffic like spirits on the street, chatting shotgun through the tower of trays, legs, drawers, scraping wrists and ankles, puzzling at our load on a corner then off again. Simone can’t tell if she pisses Matan off. In living with strangers she doesn’t mind being bossy. Dish towels are clean and not for cleaning. She refutes claims of her dirtiness. I find she is someone who is very sensitive to gender roles. Abby Adult says adult beds are not in corners. I climb up the walls to give myself a red canopy. Stash and steal and crowd and clutter, Howl’s bed, magpie’s mind, treasure box. Let me live somewhere I can get lost.

06.08.19

I am folding myself into this house like into a blanket, filling every corner with some hand-sized glee. The moving and choosing fires off the part of my brain that is a mouse pushing levers, saving grains, planning for later, living like cooking, by habit and precaution. Cameron had nothing in their room. These are two sides extreme, both beautiful, both in their own flavor correct. My choice is to be fret-tired and worn in a moment; rather than lacking or scavenging later, bumped and familiar with frustration or money-spending. I like the bartering, the cooking with nothing, the piling and stringing things up. “Your DIY aesthetic” says Matan, strange and insightful again. Birds will make a nest to see it torn down the next year.

07.08.19

The storm like me back it seems. I talk about her incessantly, of when the kites fly low and remind me of the sea, of the way the sky presses on the city and makes you notice it, doing what you’re doing but doing it with your eyes on a corner between roofs were you see her scheming the rain, first drizzle then pour. And I make my ferry way, pressing my umbrella between my fingers and phone, braced and ready for the trick to fall, eager in the waiting like happy prey. And when you do start love, you have humor: you growl somewhere to the side-ear and fall just on the chorus of Don’t Let Me Down while I join in and soften just as it stops. You have me laughing clamorous and soaked and clear.

08.08.19

I dream that I am Theo, lost and boyish and cut-off from everything and especially myself expect girls and history and whatever excites the mind to marvel. Let me read again, now that I am slightly weak, now that my mind is playing tricks on me again, listlessly making me believe I am worth no one’s time. I want something to sparkle for me or damnit I will go and find it. I will go to a play tomorrow and I will be in New York and I will read on the train. By God I will be good at this if nothing else.

09.08.19

“Pay attention” says Ethan, “to how your body feels.” Is your phone less reactive, or is it the cover screen? The chord, the block, or the device? I stand evenly on both feet in the line at UPS. I return every eye that meets me, insistently— look at me, I am looking too. Pay attention. My face feels gathered like a half-raised first. My step clacks, my back is straight, I am no floater, Theo. Where is my benevolence? Why must it depend on, vaguely, if Adrian is sleeping with Lis, if Holly cancelled on me, how my body decides to wake up? Who am I being so cool for, so impenetrable, when I have said so often that I refuse to defend myself against people?

10.08.19

C’est drôle comme rapidement je me remets à aimer. Il faut aller trouver ces choses: la pièce de théâtre indépendante et un peu étrange, l’établissement au nom russe, la tartine un peu brûlée. Florence me pose les questions comme il faut: non pas, comment vas tu faire (qui est une bonne question, mais pas la première) mais que vas tu faire. Je sais déjà ce qui me fait frémir. Tout ça je le sais. Il s’agit d’être radical. De savoir être radical. De choisir. D’aller chercher. Savoir rester heureux est vraiment un art— étrange d’ailleurs, vu que le monde a tellement à donner pour être heureux.

The AC in the train starts up again. There’s a helpfulness in the air today, like the summer doesn’t want to end, is sunny, and sea-like, glowing and streaked with clouds. But the movies are closed until September, and I don’t understand it. The coast has put on its best, I can tell, but doesn’t dare ask me to stay and I am ignoring it— going home. Never have I felt so invited to roam little Connecticut alone. But I am going back to my duties, sad-no smiling to the sun, as if I am an adult who truly must. How symbolically heart-ending if I were to sit inside today! I’ll go, no I will. I’ll take Natalie or no one but I will. You cultivate what you want to be, Caleb said it, we all agree— nothing has so clearly been that occasion for a good habit.

11.08.19

And we didn’t go to the beach in the end— we will, because we have a car now, but we have not yet. Instead we took the car to Lowe’s and the storage unit, and made a copy of the keys. I sat in the back seat with the sea in my hand like a toy I’d been told to be quiet with. Trent slid his hand over the wheel and he and Natalie held arms over the front seat like parents, in a way signaling to one another they’ve just felt affectionate, but must for now keep it seemly for the children. I take Natalie in, big eyes on her for long moments. Bare-chested Trent eating strawberries over a chair makes me stare. I want a moment with Nat alone (walking to the car, at home while errands are run by Trent and her mom) to raise the back of my hand up and point to my finger: the ring? As if to ask: how are you? How much of who you are with me can I still expect to see? And then, no matter the response, to say: alright, I’m glad.

12.08.19

The walk to work is always interesting. I face the sun both ways, cross like an accomplished idiot, stride as if to prove to the summer session students, and the tourists, and the construction workers, that this place is mine. The air is carpeted with the hum of HVAC and wired with cicadas, cool and rustling near the graveyard and parking-lot hot near the Whale. A painter camouflages a new building into the sky and an old man coughs on the steps of his house, wearing all red. New Haven calls for climate emergency, and for gun lessons, and for a twin pack of cigarettes (and of course, to Tax Yale). I am only a certain amount of native here.

13.08.19

Last night called for rain which came and stood, grey boots in the window at my awakening. Thanks to it now I am under the burbling skylight, wedged into the service stairs like a young délinquant, barefoot, sandal-tanned and flecked with black with but only waiting for my flats to dry. Donna Tartt narrates over me in alliterative phrases stuck there since high school English: “widow Dido,” “Popchik, Popchik.” She makes the packing of my lunch seem frantic. I am misted in parts and soaked in others. I contend with the parts of my commute I have the least affection for when they offer me shelter. Boring duties are renewed with care (I check my bag like a friend) and the umbrella surprises me with a watery caresse. The pour stops and starts in uncaring moods, while I marvel at the fleck of dry sand on my fingernail, as expertly dropped as a seagull’s bird shit.

Making food, spiked-seltzer drunk, feels like something I should be doing in my early twenties. Still in my shoes, not quite bumping into our move-in mess, navigating to the stove where my peppers are patiently cooking. Technically drinking alone, I suppose, although Nat and Trent are in the room next door. They’re as if teenagers had gotten married, playing locked-up video games, eating pop tarts and pop corn. I’m being mean, but still. Give me a friend other than myself to be arrogant and drunk with.

14.08.19

The day has felt like a skipping record. I sit with my shoes awkwardly up on the bar of the old geology classroom table where we have our lab meeting, legs apart, changing the position of my hands to look more like the men on the team. I’ve been wanting to project to them, and to convince myself, that I am confident, and unashamed of myself as a researcher. The flattened squamate skull Kelsey has been segmenting all summer spins evenly on the projection screen like a rainbow screensaver. “It took me a lot longer than I’d like to admit to figure out how to make it loop in PowerPoint,” she says, in the bored and awkward silence preceding Anjan’s arrival, “does anyone hear that ominous beeping noise?”

As the meeting goes on I feel bad for my cynicism. Anjan is helpful, and full of feeling; he kicks his voice into a fury about how the auditorium in the new science building will have no exhibits for modern research, only stupid, dead, drunkard white guys, dried out carrions in their graves whose work we refuse to shut up about. Pisses him off; he’ll go up and give them a piece of his mind. “How about you Alice?” eventually he turns as he does for each of us to ask about my progress, paused and attentive, a gooey ring of white exposed all around the iris. “That’s good!” I flicker my eyes around the room, unsure if I have ended my explanation. “If you’re working on vomeronasal projections you should look up nervus terminalus– nerve zero. It’s kind of an old theory, might be totally wrong but you never know. It’s worth looking up. Some of those old dudes tend to say more interesting things than some people in the field nowadays.”

I think back to the ominous beeping at the apartment, poked through my reading by the musical sting of Trent’s medieval strategy game a room away. He and Nat hadn’t realized I was home at first, and had cooed at one another in a way I knew I would only hear now as they would never do it around me again, and talked about how mushrooms tasted like cum, Trent explaining that he had, yes, sampled his own cum which is why he knew what it tasted like. I made myself coffee, which I never do, half milk and three spoons of sugar, feeling like a thief for taking from Nat’s Knick-knack teapot. Worse, I catch myself wanting a drink, in pathetic emulation of Theo’s own self-seriousness, the brooding, world-bereaved young man, for whom defensiveness is not only perfectly reasonable, but noble.

15.08.19

Jack, you came up in conversation with Nat. There’d been a build up to it all week, me thinking about morality and self-image, feelings of guilt, feelings of rancor. I sat on the couch, wrapped up into myself, furrowing my brow because I wanted to feel myself do it, wanted to put myself here, guilting profusely over every movement and word I said. I was too arrogant, didn’t notice when Nat stormed out that morning, I steered the conversation wrong (“how do you learn to do that right?” had asked Max) toward myself, or towards the wrong kind of comfort or advice or recognition, sloppy, really. Just sloppy, when you can be deft. And I thought about how guilty I felt for what I’d done to you I said, “if I forgive myself for what I did, then I am no better than him for forgiving himself, for absolving himself of the need to think of the pain he’s caused, and the pain he might cause in the future.” The difference, of course, and I don’t need a shrink to remind me, is that I need to hold us both to the same standard. That does not mean I’ll happily dismiss you to my advantage as deranged, or a dick, as you surely do me (I can almost hear it) but it does mean that I can expect for you to think on your behavior as much as I have mine, and when you do not (I have no way of confirming that you do) work accordingly. Same standard for you and I Jack— simple as that. For me and you and everyone else. Mix and match.

16.08.19

The next day I wake up thinking “let’s try impunity” and what an immediate delight. I walk and I see: GMC pickup, electric pole panel, security camera, parameter, when was this constructed? Are they working on Payne Whitney? Yale facilities vans have reference numbers. Brick patterns on the windows, tinted glass, where does this bus go? My voice picks up, I am un-embarrassed to speak, I listen to rap and move around the lab. I work. On the way back the air is breath-hot, and mercury light pushes out from behind the clouds in blingy prelude to a storm. I’ve selected a song of Lis’ that pulls my confidence all the way up through my spine, two gender-fucking voices, one slapping and modern, the other age-old and trilling.

17.08.19

I didn’t think I wanted to swim until my feet were in the water. Perhaps it is like weighted blankets and hugs that make you cry: being held never uses the front door of the mind. There is movement, my froggy propulsion through the water, and then there is the off-handed way the ocean sloshes to the shore with you still in it. I cannot conceive of the volume in any other way but the sea. Knowing what it is like to drown can change everything. Barnacle cuts are pink and radiant but impossible to feel, the opposite of paper cuts, which I suppose makes sense in more ways than one. I tie my ribbon around my hand like a tribal fisherman, hung up by all limbs in the water. I accost the dead skin on my heel. I speak and sing to myself. I do not notice the fog until it is in.

18.08.19

Shovel-fulls of visions arrested on their way to meaning. The day is jumpy and bored until. I am marvel-bound until I am talking, at which point I am stringing conversation and looking at your tattoos. Your eyes are clear, like lemon beer. The walls flake, and your photographs are grainy with dark, looking for fish in the deep. A sense of light, an understanding not semantic. A re-wiring. I climb and make, I sit in your smoke, I show the different angle which is absurd and funny, makes us tiny toys. You are from Moldova, I have to remember. I hold your hand on the backseat. You were talking yesterday about the moving holes of LSD.

19.08.19

The sequence of the day has seemed completely natural— something a hobbit would set their watch to from the porch, looking out into the turning of the world. Chris was around, and will be for the next few days since his New York conference got cancelled. We both understood the afternoon so well before carrying it out: we would both get chai lattes and bump around the Willoughby's unembarrassed when our orders get messed up, say we should “make the usual walk to the Div school” and stop to sit in a tree by the observatory, perch in the stormy wind like two academic birds in the Marsh Hall belfry, and chat about efficiency, and language, and morality. At work, it storms. I pack up to walk home some half hour after the rain and head to Stop and Shop in the gold-dripping postdiluvian afternoon: an excuse to see a neighborhood that isn’t mine, where streets fan out into the unknown, sparse with people and rife with churches, a zone I’ve not yet added to my mental map. I buy bread, hair ties for my roommate, “nice” jam for the other, slot them in my technicolor backpack, and glide home on the sound of crickets and seagulls beaming through the limpid air.

20.08.19

I’ve decided not to go to work (Laurel hasn’t asked for me, I’ve figured out the extraction problem on my own, I’m getting lunch with Chris and Julia near the med school, I’m not even getting paid anymore, I have other things to do, and if she needs me she can just text). The only thing I’ll be missing is the chill of the lab, without which we are faced with an unclenching strip of hot, humid weather than I scroll across the weather app on my phone. The apartment is still as whispery as a wood: spoon tinkling once against my chosen mug of tea, Trent or Natalie taking a rising sip from the vape pen, mindlessly clicking at a video game, against the faraway in-and-out of chittering cicadas.

21.08.19

Around 1:30am we left Viva’s and dropped Jenna off with her three-year-faithful, less-successful-than-her boyfriend (Andrew? It would be weird if Chris slept over with him walking around the one bedroom apartment in the morning) but the rest of us had other prospects. I guarded Christina like a puffed bird while she changed in the trunk of the car from a black striped shirt to a black striped sweater, and helped list the roofs in the area. I could do Dwight, Kris had the password to the Howe Street roof, and Cameron still technically had keys to the whole building, but their first suggestion had already taken it: the creepy, stony walls of St Lawrence Cemetery mausoleum.

Next, drinks: I had half a bottle of mango-nectar orange juice in the fridge, and a flask of vodka that’d last been used at dinner on Friday for one of Christina’s mosquito bites. Nat and Trent had moved in with a dreg of Maker's Mark, which was waiting on the kitchen counter, and Kris, of course, had more vodka at home. Halfway out of the apartment, waiting for Natalie to get dressed and join us, I couldn’t help but laugh at our situation: we’d pulled into the parking lot like a bunch of gangsters, crouched over the giant electric fan in the back seat, Kris smoking and blasting some dark, full, floor-of-the-mind Witchhaus for the entire tenement to hear. We were making things exactly as we wanted them, speeding off onto a road that was empty and ours with the arrogance of a Neo-Tokyo biker gang.

Campus, which had felt like a kingdom until yesterday, has been retaken without a breath of effort. The air smells like a firecracker, and the dorms like shoe-box houses. People have started partying, and practicing, and working, as if they had spawned there already in the act.

22.08.19

I am drunk and sober enough to write. We are magnificent tonight, you would see it. Our kisses barely hold back— I kiss Kris on her rough, shorn head, I rasp at her slenderness, the meeting angle of smile and cheek, I kiss Keduse on his good man’s t-shirt, on his Egyptian locks, the enamored look in his eyes and hands, I kiss Cameron with hands around the waist, into bony rebellion, hated and going, spirit that knows me in a pair, dyed hair.

And for those who are not with us, I have planted a kiss on your neck— feed me more alcohol. For those who are too lost to stay— you are guiding yourself, and we are here waiting. For those who are trying us, getting their feel— our love extends to you too. We are the city, that much I can tell. She is in the blinking foreign, she is in the dollhouse lights, she is in the streets of police and the things out of their sight. The drug dealer, the broke, the roped-up nervous boy, and those who’ve got nothing to lose, and everything to look for.

She is the stage for us, the in between. She knows I see her— she is the mint I bring to my lips with inexpressible longing: wilderness of love. I cannot smell it without knowing it exists. After all, she is here: kiss them, she says, for I cannot quite do it in a way they will understand. Dutifully I do, and imagine hers, smiling sadly, pearled horizon, born dressed. I will miss you, Christ! God I will miss you! How much I owe, and this fantastic longing, it stands for all the rest of it! What tender love I will feel until I am torn from this.

#creative writing #daily wriiting

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oceanicdaniel · 7 years

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I’m answering these because I’m bored and in study hall where I have no homework, questions from skylerwritestoomuchphansmut

1: How tall or short do you wish you were? 5′3″ 2: What’s your dream pet? (Real or not) another dog 3: Do you have a favorite clothing style? the most depressing look i can achieve with really tight jeans 4: What was your favorite video game growing up? tekken 2 and frogger on the playstation 1, frogger on the atari, and mortal kombat on the nintendo 5: What three things/people do you think of most each day: sleeping, eating, and why i couldn’t be older so i could’ve graduated already 6: If you had a warning label, what would yours say? warning: says too many swear words, extremely awkward and polite. approach at your own risk 7: What is your opinion on [insert thing here]? i love science sm it’s my fav subject tbh 8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic] i don’t know, i’m too lazy to google these 9: Are you ticklish? extremely, sadly 10: Are you allergic to anything? no, but i have hayfever (so fun) 11: What’s your sexuality? the most extreme rainbow out there (i’m pansexual but i make gay jokes too often) 12: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa? Hot Chocolate (cocoa and hot chocolate are different things you can fight me on this) 13: Are you a cat or dog person? dog 100% but i like both, i’m just saying if i had to choose what to adopt one 14: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson? vampire 15: Do you have a favorite Youtuber? subscribe to AmazingPhil on YouTube. 16: How tall are you? 5′7″ and a half 17: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to? My name is already Jesse but my birthname is way too feminine for my agender ass 18: How much do you weigh? i don’t know i lost a lot of weight recently bc i was sick and couldn’t eat 19: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits? yeah i guess 20: Do you like space or the ocean more? space!!!! (i’m sorry i’m an astronomy nerd) 21: Are you religious? i don’t think jesus would appreciate it if i was 22: Pet peeves? loud chewing, smacking gum (oh my god do not do this around me), chewing with your mouth open are the mains 23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal [opposite of nocturnal]? i already am nocturnal 24: Favorite constellation? too many to choose 25: Favorite star? i don’t really have favorite stars 26: Do you like ball-jointed dolls? what 27: Any phobias or fears? hecking yes, the dark (depends on the situation though), tight spaces, crowds sometimes (again depends) 28: Do you think global warming is real? um yes??? the world will get warmer then fix itself and get colder?? the world will end with the icecaps melting then they will freeze??? 29: Do you believe in reincarnation? not really 30: Favorite movie? holy heck!! i don’t know!! maybe return of the jedi 31: Do you get scared easily? nah 32: How many pets have you owned in your lifetime? 4 33: Blog rate? [You’ll rate the blog of the one who’s asking.] YEET i’ll just rate my blog -10/10 34: What is a color that calms you? black or blue 35: Where would you like to travel and/or live? i would absolutely love to go to Key West again!! 36: Where were you born? in Mediapolis, Iowa (techincally west burlington but you know what) 37: What is your eye color? one eye is bluer and one eye is greener but technically blue 38: Introvert or extrovert? both i guess 39: Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs? yes i love astrology but not horoscopes 40: Hugs or kisses? hugs!!! 41: Who is someone you would like to see/visit right now? i would love to go see AmazingPhil who you should subscribe to on youtube 42: Who is someone you love deeply? my best friend and my dogs 43: Any piercings you want? 6 in each ear 44: Do you like tattoos and piercings? yes! 45: Do you smoke or have you ever done so? i don’t but i’ve tried a cigarette before (nasty dont do it) 46: Talk about your crush, if you have one! he’s tall-ish, has really beautiful hair, nice green eyes, this rlly cute face freckle thing, and he’s really funny 47: What is a sound you really hate? scratching nails against paper or a window 48: A sound you really love? piano and uke 49: Can you do a backflip? on a trampoline yeah but i haven’t ever tried on the floor 50: Can you do the splits? yepp 51: Favorite actor and/or actress? Jennifer Lawerence 52: Favorite movie? this was already asked but Return of The Jedi or The Revenge of the Sith 53: How are you feeling right now? Tired 54: What color would you like your hair to be right now? black or rlly dark brown 55: When did you feel happiest? when i am asleep 56: Something that calms you down? reading 57: Have any mental disorders? depression, social anxiety, and ADHD 58: What does your URL mean? the ocean is pretty and so is dan howell 59: What three words describe you the most? emo, nc-17 (inside joke), hungry 60: Do you believe in evolution? yeah 61: What makes you unfollow a blog? if they turn into a different fandom blog that i’m not in 62: What makes you follow a blog? i like their content 63: Favorite kind of person: funny and sarcastic and polite/nice 64: Favorite animal(s): dogs!! 65: Name three of your favorite blogs. @Amazingphil and idk the other two i’ll look later 66: Favorite emoticon: i don’t use them that often and i mainly only use like four 67: Favorite meme: spongebob 68: What is your MBTI personality type? oh man i don’t want to take another quiz 69: What is your star sign? Aquarius 70: Can your dog roll over on command, if you have a dog? nope haven’t taught him that yet 71: What outfit out of all your clothes do you like to wear the most? jeans, sweatshirt, and vans 72: Post a selfie or two? no thanks 73: Do you have platform shoes? platform heels, yeah 74: What is one random but interesting fact about yourself? 75: Can you do a front flip? yep 76: Do you like birds? yeah 77: Do you like to swim? yep, i do it competitively actually 78: Is swimming or ice skating more fun to you? ice skating 79: Something you wish didn’t exist: homework 80: Some thing you wish did exist: the ability to drive golf carts in the street in my state 81: Piercings you have? zero 82: Something you really enjoy doing: reading 83: Favorite person to talk to: my best friend 84: What was your first impression of Tumblr? i don’t remember i’ve had it for the longest time 85: How many followers do you have? idk i can’t open another tumblr tab im on my school computer 86: Can you run a mile within ten minutes? yep, i used to be a long distant runner in track 87: Do your socks always match? heck no 88: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely? yep 89: What are your birthstones? Amethyst 90: If you were an animal, which one would you be? hopefully a dog 91: If a flower could aesthetically represent you, what kind would it be? black rose (bc i’m emo af) 92: A store you hate? JUSTICE or abecrombie & fitch (oh lord) 93: How many cups of coffee can you drink in one day? none but i drink like 200 hundread cups of mountain dew a day 94: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds? fly tf 95: Do you like to wear camo? who wears camo anymore you know besides rednecks 96: Winter or summer? Summer 97: How long can you hold your breath for? too long to be considered human 98: Least favorite person? everyone in my grade except for my best friends 99: Someone you look up to: adults bc they’re usually taller than me 100: A store you love? barnes and noble 101: Favorite type of shoes: vans or converse 102: Where do you live? some cornfield in iowa 103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why? i don’t live in the correct family to be either of those, we eat hamburgers every friday and steak every sunday 104: What is your favorite mineral or gem? sapphire 105: Do you drink milk? yeah but i’m lactose intolerant 106: Do you like bugs? as long as they don’t attack me (except i always hate moths) 107: Do you like spiders? if they aren’t crawling on me 108: Something you get paranoid about? when i come home alone late at night and al the lights in my house are off 109: Can you draw: not well but yeahhh i’m a trashy artist 110: Nosiest question you have ever been asked? “is that a thong on your bathroom floor?” it wasn’t, it was a bikini top 111: A question you hate being asked? “when’s your sex reassignment surgery?” no joke a kid asks me this everyday 112: Ever been bitten by a spider? yep 113: Do you like the sound of waves at the beach? heck yeah i do 114: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days? sunny 115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now: i’d very much like to cuddle dan, his tummy chub is sososososo cute 116: Favorite cloud type: Stratus and Stratocumulus 117: What color do you wish the sky was? i like the current color 118: Do you have freckles? no but i wish i did 119: Favorite thing about a person: eyes or shoulders (idk why?? strong shoulders just wow) and dimples (if they have some) i love to poke peoples dimples sm 120: Fruits or vegetables? fruit 121: Something you want to do right now: go to the bathroom and eat cookies 122: Is the ocean or sky prettier? the night sky is gorgeous 123: Sweet or sour foods? both 124: Bright or dim lights? dim 125: Do you believe in a certain magical creature? tf no, no matter how much i love harry potter, magic doesn’t exist 126: Something you hate about Tumblr: how much people steal pictures 127: Something you love about Tumblr: a way to express myself since i can’t in my house 128: What do you think about the least? what people think of my sexuality 129: What would you want written on your tombstone? “ 130: Who would you like to punch in the face right now? this kid in my class who won’t stop calling me dyke 131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself? my hair 132: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures? yeah (even though they’re ugly af) 133: Computer or TV? yes 134: Do you like roller coasters? hECK YES if i get taken to a theme park for a date i am marrying that person right away 135: Do you get motion sickness or seasickness? nope 136: Are your ears lobed or attached? attached 137: Do you believe in karma? nope 138: On a scale of 1-10, how attractive would you say you are? -10 139: What nicknames do you have/have had? jay, jj, dad, (and some stuff with my birthname) 140: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends? no 141: Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink? yep 142: Would you say you are a good or bad influence to others? bad in some situations, good in others 143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help? i don’t know both ig 144: What makes you angry? school 145: How many languages do you speak fluently? one 146: Do you prefer boys, girls, and/or non-binaries? yes 147: Are you androgynous? yeahhh 148: Favorite physical thing about yourself: nothing 149: Favorite thing about your personality: my humor 150: Name three people you would like to talk to right now in person: dan, phil, and amandaschronicles 151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose? ancient greece 152: Do you like BuzzFeed? i like the ladylike series 153: How did you meet your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner? [If you have one.] n/a 154: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons? yes! 155: Do you like to play with others’ hair? no i like when they play with my hair 156: What embarrasses you? if you point me out in a crowd oh nelly 157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious: i have social anxiety so a lot of things 158: Biggest lie you have ever told: idk 159: How many people are you following? 37 160: How many posts do you have on your blog(s)? idk a lot 161: How many drafts do you have on your blog(s)? 1 162: How many likes do you have on your blog(s)? 92 (i just reblog everything i like) 163: Last time you cried and why: last night, my mom was trying to force me to take a 14 hour class that i didn’t want to do and i got so frustrated i cried 164: Do you have long or short hair? short 165: Longest your hair has ever been: to the bottom of my ribs when it was straight 166: Why do you like, dislike, or have neutral feelings about religon? dislike because i don’t believe jesus or god exist 167: Do you really care how the universe and world was created? yeah i’m a science nerd as i said 168: Do you like to wear makeup? god no 169: Can you stand on your hands or head for more than thirty seconds? yeah 170: Did you answer the questions you were asked truthfully? yes mom

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