I have been writing in a journal on an almost-daily basis since I was 17 years old. This is a record of me going through each entry from the beginning, and commenting on the me from fifteen years ago.

Sometimes I can hear my mind thinking. Not telling me, just doing. It’s whipped potatoes in my head, oozing without any gravy. Is that stupid? I don’t care, because I can feel what I know. All I know. Blur, blur, blur. Right now should be all the nows but it wont last, but I’m going to milk it for all the strangeness it’s worth.

Is using whipped potatoes with no gravy as a metaphor for your brain stupid? No, it’s fucking awesome! It’s one of the best things you’ve written in a while!