spaghetti war crimes

Long day for a minimum day. Subbed for Jana today. Her class is always tricky. They take a lot of patience and energy. Fucking talkative bunch. After work I hung with Hayden and that was fun. We went to Roosevelt Coffee, and it was good. Chatted and did bits and laughed; like always. That really cute barista was there. I think she recognized me despite the drastic haircut cause when we made eye contact, her eyes lit up a bit. I want to try and ask for her number or something but don’t wanna blow up the spot.  She’s real beautiful. I bet she smells great. Like fresh laundry and juniper and persimmons. Light and airy but flowery as well. I want to hear her talk more. I’ve only heard her say a few words. I want to hear her curse and be angry and shout and whisper and laugh and mutter and exclaim and laugh. Really laugh. 

Andy and I have been surfing a lot more lately. At least more this year compared to last. We surfed Doheny last Friday and had a blast. The wave was super weird; I didn’t remember it being like that, but then again, the last time–and first time–I surfed there was ages ago with Dylan and Emma. It was a very slow wave and continued to move towards shore without breaking until it crashed up on the lip of rocks about five feet from the receding edge of the water. Once while we were out, a couple set waves came in, not too big but still, they were set waves, and I paddled frantically to get over them. I did this once or twice and then for some reason, probably because of the tide and how slowly the waves were breaking that day, an idea popped into my mind: “we’ll get there eventually.” I can talk about it more later but all the thinking I’ve been doing on mortality kind of sprung up from my subconscious in this moment I feel like. Yes, I wasn’t talking metaphorically in that exact momen...

Sunday, June 22nd 2025 – 3:58pm I’m not a brilliant person. I’m not intelligent, not even that smart. I’m just not proud enough to convince others that I’m some paragon. I’m not brave or honorable or anything of that manner. I’m just weak enough to admit this. I’m a child in the body of a small man, and I say that with no tongue in cheek or resentment to any soul living or passed on because I am not proud. I am me. My ego has died; I have a small bit left over, but day in and day out, I continually work to extinguish whatever sad dribble of it that exists. I am not anything. I am naive, naieve? I’m not even sure how to spell it. I wish for nothing but to enjoy my days in peace.  

I fucking hate chess. I don’t know why I suck at it so much. Like, it’s a simple concept: capture their pieces without letting them steal your pieces. So simple but I suck so fucking much. So much! Anyways. Yesterday I went to dinner with one of the girls staying in my hostel room. Her name, I think, was Tsinhe. She’s from China. I first said hi to her two days ago and we spoke very briefly. Then yesterday when I got back from skating, I showed her some of the clothes I bought and got to know her a bit more. I made a little show of pretending to try on the clothing items. It awarded me with a few laughs. I wanted to go to this Chinese place for dinner cause they had rice and miso soup, and I thought that’d be best for my upset stomach. I felt bad asking the Chinese girl to a Chinese restaurant, but I was curious about her. Turns out as we were walking there, the restaurant named Bento Copenhagen is not Chinese but in fact Japanese. Yep. Nice Brennan. When we got there, we realized we ...