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7:58pm October 5, 2010
[Painting is violently orange with assorted zigzag and splotchy and tree-like patterns, as well as cutouts of lots of letters that barely show up in the photo but are visible as texture in real life. Painting is titled “Language Overload”.] This is what has happened to my brain as a result of writing the long thing I wrote. Lots of word-pieces swirling around in a painfully orange place, making my brain hurt. I can’t wait until I get out of this, but it always takes a long time of lying still doing nothing. Eventually my brain starts flashing sensory impressions at me, that had been pushed to the side in order to use language. Each one is painful. Then, eventually, there’s a bit of a blip, and suddenly the pain is gone and I am no longer trapped in this weird shallow painful word place that feels like a kind of death. (Not physical death, but death of the normal depth-filled and highly sensory way that I process information.)

[Painting is violently orange with assorted zigzag and splotchy and tree-like patterns, as well as cutouts of lots of letters that barely show up in the photo but are visible as texture in real life. Painting is titled “Language Overload”.]

This is what has happened to my brain as a result of writing the long thing I wrote. Lots of word-pieces swirling around in a painfully orange place, making my brain hurt. I can’t wait until I get out of this, but it always takes a long time of lying still doing nothing. Eventually my brain starts flashing sensory impressions at me, that had been pushed to the side in order to use language. Each one is painful. Then, eventually, there’s a bit of a blip, and suddenly the pain is gone and I am no longer trapped in this weird shallow painful word place that feels like a kind of death. (Not physical death, but death of the normal depth-filled and highly sensory way that I process information.)