no-thingness

I woke at 7:32. my head was killing me. through a small gap by the courtains a beam of light pierced my eye. it hurt and i could not sleep for another 3 hours. as i woke again, the house smelled of fresh paint. the sun was still there and my computer is still broken. before repairing it one has to make a backup. i find this file on the disc, says something about william s. burroughs. it is broken. you can see things but they come repetitive with noize and gaps. just this morning. i thought about people as vessels for demons, angels, strange entities using the human mind to dwell. we don´t notice them. because they use the 90% of the unused brainmatter and produce feelings you think of as your own. as ontological symbionts, they give you ideas, some think it´s the unconcious. but it is not.  as i press the apple-v keys to reapeat the scentence “I will no longer copy and paste boring art” think of something else. 3 days later they put the original baldessari online. i want to stay alone now. at this very moment the VLC tries to recover the broken burroughs file. it seems it somehow crashed the programm. i feel bruised but calm. my feet are still white. i suspected earlier, my skin absorbed the paints´ chemicals and influenced my refelexive zones. leading to pain and no sleep. pain and no sleep. L comes downstaires and i´m on his little screen. it is me yesterday, in the same room i am now. i have no pants on. definitly not thinking about writers. we try to connect our pasts via bluetooth. i try to reproduce the present. its like fucking plastic women. about 48% to go. it´s 15:54. 16:25 i go down the cellar. i want to videotape every moment in seach of ghosts. maybe the broken file caused them. half the way down, the battery is gone. only minutes later the phones´ charging cable somehow disconnects the harddisc. have to repair burroughs again. outside the house. the plastic cover on sofa makes a strange sound. it sounds as somebody would do it. not the wind. art fags will listen. btw. sms yesterday: Art fags will prix ars it! ONE MORE TRY! ONE MORE TRY! burroughs ghost will not destroy this file! 16:35 i send the photos to computer. no entities!  16:42. another video. the pain is better now. im eating. reminds me of this dream i once had. i look my mobile and a picture of myself is on it. not an internal camera taking the pictures. its medial recreation, i move, i see me moving like a different person on screen. 17:00 sharp, calling ivana but she doesn´t pic up. avi of file index ca. 38%. is time collapsing around me? when am i? confused. later arroused. my mind is not stable anymore. if time collapses, mind collapses. we seem like tomographs, scanning a playful universe slice by slice, perceiving rot as time. my perception of body distorted. legs feel small. head cloudy. another mobile pic helps. it pleases the burroughs file