Titled

Except that House of Leaves is actually about a documentary about a man trying to explore the inside of his new home, which proves impossible to document properly, due to its non-Euclidean dimensions.

Except that House of Leaves is actually about an academic paper, which itself is about an alleged documentary about an alleged non-Euclidean home, but none of this can be verified.

Except that House of Leaves is just, like, this fucking stack of papers I found in this old dead guy’s apartment, and, like, I don’t even know if its his or what because like both his eyes were gone and he didn’t have any degrees or anything. I tried asking my friend from the tattoo shop about it but she was fixing up this thumper tattoo right above a girl’s pussy the whole time we were talking; like Thumper from Bambi, and I’m not gonna lie man I was pretty distracted and I just couldn’t [XXXXS XXXX XXXX. XXXX XXXX XXX X XXX XX XXXXXXX XXXXXX XX XXXX XX XXXXXX XXXX XXX]^*

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* Editor’s Note: House of Leaves is a metatextual examination of the ability for a minor inconsistency in measurement, which might have been ignored by a normal person, to cause an all-consuming obsession spiral in the sort of person who is academically trained, obsessed with documentation, or overtly pedantic, and-

“Johnny, please, I’m your Mother; I know I have a lot to apologize for but I can’t, not unless you return my letters; are you even getting my letters? I send one every week you know, but I think that nurse keeps them from you, keeps you from getting my letters, because I know, I know my sweet Johnny would never leave his poor old mother rotting away by herself in this horrible drafty ward if he was getting his mother’s letters, would you, sweet boy? I know she’s stealing my letters from you, she’s always touching my things, even though they haven’t moved I know she’s touching them I know she keeps you from me I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know [there’s a limit to what you can know. Some folks bump up against that limit and bounce right off and keep swimming, and some folks, well. Some folks SPLAT]I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know [they just gotta keep digging away at it. Even when it’s not that deep, they just… grab a shovel and keep digging. Lord knows what motivates them. A kind of Madness I suppose. Some folks find GOD in that madness. Not much of a believer myself]I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know I know

I know

I know

I know

I know

I know

I know you’ll visit me for Mother’s Day, won’t you?

🧿

I love this girl. She’s amazing at everything but can’t say no to anybody. She went to Florida to learn english and accidentally wandered into assassin training. This is missing the punchline though.

Wanting something requires dopamine signaling, but liking something doesn’t.

If you have a mental illness/disorder that affects dopamine, you might feel that you don’t want to do the things that you like. You do still like them. You will appreciate having done them.

Let your likes guide you.

(If you want to read more, here’s one experimental paper about it. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5171207/ This theory called the incentive-sensitization theory was originally created to explain behaviors in addiction but can be applied elsewhere as well)

When I was 15, I spent a month working on an archeological dig. I was talking to one of the archeologists one day during our lunch break and he asked those kinds of “getting to know you” questions you ask young people: Do you play sports? What’s your favorite subject? And I told him, no I don’t play any sports. I do theater, I’m in choir, I play the violin and piano, I used to take art classes.

And he went WOW. That’s amazing! And I said, “Oh no, but I’m not any good at ANY of them.”

And he said something then that I will never forget and which absolutely blew my mind because no one had ever said anything like it to me before: “I don’t think being good at things is the point of doing them. I think you’ve got all these wonderful experiences with different skills, and that all teaches you things and makes you an interesting person, no matter how well you do them.”