Home again. I visited Westwood, too, which mostly did good things for my ego. I’d forgotten how oppressive high school was. Familial things were mostly comforting, like playing Memory with my little brother (who is very good at it for three years old) and Darjeeling tea. We watched Autumn Spring, which is Czech and delightful, about old people. I always have a certain aversion to good movies — initially, I try to talk my mom into watching terrible, junk-food movies that I later complain about — but she tends to win out and then I’m glad she did.

Right now I’m in a strange half-awake state that lends itself well to looking at stuff by Luke Chuieh and scattered thoughts. I love this laptop so very much. Andrew Jackson still makes me angry. Generally, though, things continue to work out, which leads me to believe that catastrophe is imminent.