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Friday

I woke up at 12:30 p.m. and sat on my bed.  I emailed people and ate cereal and that took three hours because I took my time.  When I finished I didn't know what to do so I emailed some more people.

"All I've done today is email people and eat cereal," I emailed
someone.  It was 4:30 p.m. and I showered.  I put on clothes.  I lay on my bed and put on sad music and my hair was wet and I felt lonely.

I got up and went to a reading at a bar and ate salad.  I ordered fries and said, "I'm starving."  My friend's friend said, "Why did you order salad then."  I wanted to ignore her but we were looking directly at each other.  Everyone else was staring at me.  I said something about bread and a few of them laughed.  My friend was nice to me and I liked him.  I said, "I'm going to the library," and we said goodbye.

Outside, I thought I saw someone I knew and I felt afraid.

In my room, I lay on my bed and listened to music.  "I cannot fall in love, I cannot fall in love, I cannot fall in love," said the music. I turned the volume down and thought about tomorrow.


Written by Tao Lin of Reader of Depressing Books

Comments

You are in touch with the spiritual life of a good 20% of humanity. Perhaps you should construct a religion out of this.

me gusta mucho tu blog
enhorabuena

I like this story by Tao Lin. I read it because he told me to. But that doesn't mean that I'm lying when I say that I like it. Just because I know he will read this doesn't make me a liar. It just means I'm sensitive. And that I think about what happens outside of my head. I know, for instance, that there are cars outside of my head. I can hear them. Not all the time, because sometimes my bloodvessels are too loud. And I say "quiet down, don't you know I'm trying to hear the cars?" But they act like they're all that, and just keep on "coursing."

But that's cool. I ultimately understand them. That's why we haven't spent too much time fighting, my bloodvessels and I. We spend more time just hanging out. On the beach. If they fall asleep I get all tingly and I know it's time to go home. Then the train is long, and smooth, and makes me sad.

It's cool to just sit there and write stuff that comes out of your head. It's so much easier. Plus it resonates with people 'cause it sounds so familiar, like the stuff that's in thier heads, too. Then you know you've really made a connection. Then you know they'll probably laugh at your jokes.

I think when it comes down to it, that's what art is all about. Being the voice in someone else's head.

That's why I'm naming this poem: passing clothed frottage through the vibrations of the plastic udon noodle extruder.

"I like this story by Tao Lin."

Thanks.

"I read it because he told me to."

True.

"But that doesn't mean that I'm lying when I say that I like it."

Interesting.

"Just because I know he will read this doesn't make me a liar."

Oh.

"It just means I'm sensitive."

So then there's no such thing as a 'lie,' in your view of the world?

"And that I think about what happens outside of my head."

That's good.

"I know, for instance, that there are cars outside of my head."

Oh.

"I can hear them."

I hate hearing cars.

"Not all the time, because sometimes my bloodvessels are too loud."

That sounds scary.

"And I say "quiet down, don't you know I'm trying to hear the cars?""

You are right now making life into a game, like it's fun. That's good.


"But they act like they're all that, and just keep on "coursing.""

Fun.

"But that's cool."

Sympathetic even to blood vessels. Nice.

"I ultimately understand them."

You understand everything, then. The indifferent universe. Enlightened.

"That's why we haven't spent too much time fighting, my bloodvessels and I."

Boring, then?

"We spend more time just hanging out."

Talking shit about other people, then. Fighting others.

"On the beach."

Reading?

"If they fall asleep I get all tingly and I know it's time to go home."

Tingly.

"Then the train is long, and smooth, and makes me sad."

Or unexcited. Unjoyous?

"It's cool to just sit there and write stuff that comes out of your head."

I don't. Only for my internet stuff. I spend hours on sentences in my longer stuff.

"It's so much easier."

Sometimes I enjoy reading 'stuff that comes out of my head' more than stuff I've spent hours on. They're just different. But one is so much easier. What does that mean?

"Plus it resonates with people 'cause it sounds so familiar, like the stuff that's in thier heads, too."

But originality and newness is what 'resonates' with me. What is familiar is boring and makes me tired of myself and life.

"Then you know you've really made a connection."

If something is new and exciting, and I haven't ever thought of it before, but someone else has, then I feel a connection somehow. Strange.

"Then you know they'll probably laugh at your jokes."

But jokes have to be new or they are not funny.

"I think when it comes down to it, that's what art is all about."

Probably true.

"Being the voice in someone else's head."

Yeah. Because even in person, we just experience other people in our heads, after processing what is happening in the real world. No difference, really, for the enlightened person, between reading a book and hanging out with someone.

"That's why I'm naming this poem: passing clothed frottage through the vibrations of the plastic udon noodle extruder."

What poem?!

And. You wrote a better story than my story in the comments section of my story!

Good job.

Wow. I didn't think my worldview had a single thing in common with Tao Lin's, but here in one comment I find three statements I could have written myself:

1. Sometimes I enjoy reading 'stuff that comes out of my head' more than stuff I've spent hours on. They're just different. But one is so much easier. What does that mean?

2. But originality and newness is what 'resonates' with me. What is familiar is boring and makes me tired of myself and life.

3. If something is new and exciting, and I haven't ever thought of it before, but someone else has, then I feel a connection somehow.

What poem?! The preceding sentence, maybe? If so, yes, it's exceedingly self-referential. But passing clothed frottage through the vibrations of the plastic udon noodle extruder is one kick-ass line.

(Oops, I see we don't accept HTML tags in the comments. Guess I should've known that! Y'all can probably figure out which parts were supposed to have been in italics.)

It's comforting to know someone else listens to their bloodvessels.

I liked Tao Lin's story, precisely because it disturbed me. And made me wonder how much time he had spent on the writing: is this exactly what came to his mind, very quickly, and he just wrote it down, or is this a considered, crafted piece? I don't know the answer, and that makes the writing and the writer all the more intriguing to me.

Here's exactly how I wrote this:

I was bored and it was late. I felt restless. But it was like 4 a.m. and raining outside and I was alone. I got a notepad. I thought about what happened to me today. The things that I remembered I remembered because they'd affected me in some way. So I wrote down what I remembered. After I finished, I was like, "That's pretty strange and good." It took about five or ten minutes. I thought before writing down each sentence.

I tried to write another one. I finished it, but it wasn't as good. I tried again, and this one was even less good. They were both as long, and the same sort of thing, but not good.

I went back to this one. I crossed out two sentences. The next day I typed it onto the computer. I added paragraph breaks.

A while later I added more paragraph breaks.

Beth, what do you mean "Disturbed?"

I like the rhythm and progression of this, the voice. Still, I prefer songs that say, "I can fall in love, I can dive in love, I can swim in love."

I like this story because it sounds exactly like 'writing the stuff that comes out of your head', but there is such an element of ease to it that it becomes suspicious of having been carefully thought out. The suspicion seems to linger, seeking out some other, more reasonable explanation. Maybe it's some kind of a contradiction, it couldn't possibly be what it appears to be. That's what I like about it the most. It's a shape shifter.

If I may be so bold, I think the key to Tao Lin's success here, as in many of the other things he's written, is that he rigorously avoids using received phrases and ideas (such as "if I may be so bold" and "the key to X's success"). "I thought before writing down each sentence." If only everyone did that!

"I thought before writing down each sentence." If only everyone did that!

Yeah, before speaking, too. ;-)

I really enjoyed reading this piece. I laughed out loud at several points. I suppose the humor is a combination of recognition and unexpected - inconsequential mundane things not unlike things I've done (I'll leave out which of these I'm talking about!), and the unexpected, straight-faced reporting of them.

This is fresh and new and appears to be true. I too seek the new for kicks. I could never not read about clothed frottage if I saw it was up to something. Knowing when to leave it alone is an art, thank-you Tao Lin

My mother died yesterday, or was it the day before...

I am reminded.

Stark.

Disturbed because of the starkness and loneliness it expressed - and impressed by the way the spareness of your writing contributed to that tone of the self, alone.

Thanks for describing how you wrote it - I'm not surprised - this piece has the spontaneity of good calligraphy or other artforms where the honed craft, zen-like, becomes secondary but always available, letting the artist use the inspiration freely and fully. The second attempt usually doesn't make it.

I'm left uncomfortably empty. I thought I recognized myself, and I was afraid.

i don't like the people that comment on your writing. they think they're deep. i feel like i'm in sophie's class. in hell. listening to people think they're smart.

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