iunno….uuuuhhhhmmmmmuhhh

i got back to st. louis yesterday night, and we unloaded all of my shit in the dark; but FUCK it was nice out.  the entire drive back to st. louis i was stuck in the back seat of our tiny fucking rav4 squished against a box of some clothes and shit, and hellas uncomfortable, but it was worth it because i got to talk to my parents (mostly my mom, dad just listens and spouts useful information here and there, totally cool) like the entire fucking six hours it took to get back because of some nasty-ass traffic outside fucking chicago. that and i ate, because my mom brought this chicken she had made, and it was fucking awesome.  It was like shit everytime i leave she discovers new ways of making really good food so i can eat it when i get back.  it was in a zip loc, but shit, when she opened it, it was like i was back on the garbage- and shit-strewn streets of china year 2000, standing in front of a vender while my aunt bought what was to be part of dinner that night because she was too tired to cook, and i’d make a fucking fool of my ten year old self with drool nearly sloshing down my chin, because i hadn’t eaten all day and that fucking bird smelled awesome.  and i’d remember the smell all the way home, and it’d make the car exhaust and rotting watermelon peels and the humidity and the general human cesspool pressing in on my little self just a bit more bearable. and so when we got back, and i finally got to sink my teeth into the tasty bastard, it was like FUCK, HOLY FUCKING SHIT: VICTORY MUTHAFUCKER. VICTORY.

but yeah, it was like that, all over again, on a car with the two of the best people in the entire world, on the way to wherever i don’t really care, because just driving and talking with them was fucking awesome, and i’m sad it’s over, because that sort of thing, moment, feeling, period in time, whatever never really repeats itself, and for that i feel an acute sense of loss. so yeah.

but i’ve been eating non-stop ever since i’ve gotten back, and have been walking around with the distended belly of a ten year old. it’s fucking sweet, but sometimes extremely uncomfortable and at times even painful.  like i’m pretty sure that if someone at this very moment even looked at me the wrong way, i’d end up puking all over my keyboard and sheets.  that’s how full i am.  and i just can’t stop. which sucks cause i’m being forced to go to some chinese community gathering shindig this weekend.  my parents’ friends are inviting people over for dinner and shit, specifically asked about me, to which my parents specifically replied that i would definitely be back from school by then, and would definitely be attending.  so yeah.  last thing my confidence/self-esteem or lackthereof needs is some middle-aged chinese mother of an mit alumni telling me i most definitely look different since the time she saw me, so is it the haircut? teeth whitened? oh no, i see. you’ve gained weight haven’t you? gotten a bit chubbier? a bit fatter? been eating? under a lot of stress lately, hm? was it finals at school? what school was it? chicago, was it? iit, uic, northwestern? ah, an art school! what is it they do there, anyways? you paint then? make things out of clay? hmhmhmhm. fancy yourself the second da vinci, do you? ohhawhawhaw!  i’m partial the degas and monet myself. you’ve picked a major then? oh, no majors at your school? oh i see…

and they walk away practically oozing disapproval. that’s going to be my entire fucking night.  the only thing making up for it is the free food i’ll be stuffing my face with.  i will go ape-shit on their asses and fucking clean house if they cross me, make sure there is not a single vittle left, fuck.

fuck i don’t even care anymore. whatever the fuck i do shouldn’t have anything to do with them. and by them i mean the large group of middle-aged chinese parents who are more or less less than good people. a far cry from my parents.  who are fucking awesome people.

i just paused to think.  and the silence fucking roared in my ears. ROARED, muthafucker.  and it was painful.  it hurt. hurt good.  so so SO SO SO SO GOOD.

but i think under all of this sort of euphoria, there’s a hint of some sort of depression or anxiety, sort of like an undertone that i really want to tell to go fuck off. i visited high school again, and caught one of my favorite enlish teachers of all time lecturing prufrock. i am exactly a prufrock, minus the middle aged balding skinny part, but yeah.  fuck.

whatever. i’ll eat something tomorrow, and everything will pan out, and won’t give a fuck, because i’ll be so fucking full, i’ll be investing all of my energy into holding back the puke.