LIVEBLOG Read online

  “I can’t think of a better way to ruin your life than doing exactly this. Somehow Megan came out of the experience alive and with most of her friends (the good ones, at least), and with a book that isn’t just 900 descriptions of meals. This is definitely the only time I’ve ever thought of a writer as heroic. Yep, Megan most certainly is the strongest heroine in the alt lit scene.”

  —Thomas Morton, Vice

  “Megan Boyle is Edie Sedgwick but she gets out of the bottom of the pool. She comes back to life. She outlives Andy.”

  —Elizabeth Ellen, author of Person/a

  “I worked at a pizza parlor with Megan Boyle. I used to just think of her as the woman who made the pizza but now I think of her as a friend I can trust, the way I’d trust a neighbor or a tenant. LIVEBLOG is a work full of integrity, and Megan Boyle is a writer full of integrity.”

  —Joseph Grantham, Tom Sawyer

  “Megan Boyle attempts the impossible: a to-the-minute description of everything that happens to her. Like Zeno’s arrow that never reaches its target, the project is truly impossible, but in the margins we find something better: a life, a struggle, an irrepressible style.”

  —Michael Hessel-Mial, greatest poet alive

  “As a fan of LIVEBLOG from back when it was still digital, so I’ve had quite a while to compose my thoughts on it. The depiction of ennui in Boyle’s prose remains unrivaled; Her inspirational dedication to the liveblog project has brought one of the most empathetic books of the year.”

  —Jean-Luc Goyard, @idiom666

  “I read the first 30 pages first thing this morning while drinking coffee in bed. I feel really awake now and I think that’s more from the book than the coffee.”

  —Ben Collins, Stephanie

  “You may not know whether it’s pronounced ‘live’ or ‘live’, and that won’t dampen how Liveblog helps you notice you’re peculiar. You are as obsessive, self-conscious, intriguing, confused, and curious as Boyle is. You probably just didn’t write 269,000 words documenting why.”

  —William Kaye, @williamkaye_

  “Bold, honest, relentless. A shocking insight into the mind of a complete sociopath.”

  —@displayglancer

  Tyrant Books

  9 Clinton St

  Upper North Store

  NY, NY 10002

  Via Piagge Marine 23

  Sezze (LT) 04018

  Italy

  www.NYTyrant.com

  Copyright © 2018 Megan Boyle

  First Edition

  ISBN 978-0-9992186-2-4

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations in critical reviews and articles.

  Cover design by Nicole Caputo

  Book design by Adam Robinson

  LIVEBLOG

  MEGAN BOYLE

  CONTENTS

  MARCH 18, 2013

  MARCH 19, 2013

  MARCH 20, 2013

  MARCH 21, 2013

  MARCH 22, 2013

  MARCH 23, 2013

  MARCH 24, 2013

  MARCH 25, 2013

  MARCH 26, 2013

  MARCH 27, 2013

  MARCH 28, 2013

  MARCH 29, 2013

  MARCH 30, 2013

  MARCH 31, 2013

  APRIL 1, 2013

  APRIL 2, 2013

  APRIL 3, 2013

  APRIL 4, 2013

  APRIL 5, 2013

  APRIL 6, 2013

  APRIL 7, 2013

  APRIL 8, 2013

  APRIL 9, 2013

  APRIL 10, 2013

  APRIL 11, 2013

  APRIL 12, 2013

  APRIL 13, 2013

  APRIL 14, 2013

  APRIL 15, 2013

  APRIL 17, 2013

  APRIL 18, 2013

  APRIL 19, 2013

  APRIL 20, 2013

  APRIL 21, 2013

  APRIL 22, 2013

  APRIL 23, 2013

  APRIL 24, 2013

  APRIL 25, 2013

  APRIL 26, 2013

  APRIL 27, 2013

  APRIL 28, 2013

  APRIL 29, 2013

  APRIL 30, 2013

  MAY 1, 2013

  MAY 2, 2013

  MAY 3, 2013

  MAY 4, 2013

  MAY 5, 2013

  MAY 6, 2013

  MAY 7, 2013

  MAY 8, 2013

  MAY 9, 2013

  MAY 10, 2013

  MAY 11, 2013

  MAY 12, 2013

  MAY 13, 2013

  MAY 14, 2013

  MAY 15, 2013

  MAY 16, 2013

  MAY 17, 2013

  MAY 18, 2013

  MAY 18, 2013

  MAY 20, 2013

  MAY 21, 2013

  MAY 22, 2013

  MAY 23, 2013

  MAY 24, 2013

  MAY 25, 2013

  MAY 26, 2013

  MAY 27, 2013

  MAY 28, 2013

  MAY 29, 2013

  MAY 30, 2013

  MAY 31, 2013

  JUNE 1, 2013

  JUNE 2, 2013

  JUNE 3, 2013

  JUNE 4, 2013

  JUNE 5, 2013

  JUNE 6, 2013

  JUNE 7, 2013

  JUNE 8, 2013

  JUNE 9, 2013

  JUNE 10, 2013

  JUNE 11, 2013

  JUNE 12, 2013

  JUNE 13, 2013

  JUNE 14, 2013

  JUNE 15, 2013

  JUNE 16, 2013

  JUNE 17, 2013

  JUNE 18, 2013

  JUNE 19, 2013

  JUNE 20, 2013

  JUNE 21, 2013

  JUNE 22, 2013

  JUNE 23, 2013

  JUNE 24, 2013

  JUNE 25, 2013

  JUNE 26, 2013

  JUNE 27, 2013

  JUNE 28, 2013

  JUNE 29, 2013

  JULY 1, 2013

  JULY 2, 2013

  JULY 3, 2013

  JULY 4, 2013

  JULY 5, 2013

  JULY 6, 2013

  JULY 7, 2013

  JULY 8, 2013

  JULY 9 – 14, 2013

  JULY 15, 2013

  AUGUST 1, 2013

  AUGUST 2, 2013

  AUGUST 3, 2013

  AUGUST 4, 2013

  AUGUST 5, 2013

  AUGUST 6, 2013

  AUGUST 7, 2013

  AUGUST 8, 2013

  AUGUST 9, 2013

  AUGUST 10, 2013

  AUGUST 11, 2013

  AUGUST 12, 2013

  AUGUST 13, 2013

  AUGUST 14, 2013

  AUGUST 15, 2013

  AUGUST 16, 2013

  AUGUST 17, 2013

  AUGUST 18, 2013

  AUGUST 19, 2013

  AUGUST 20, 2013

  AUGUST 21, 2013

  AUGUST 22, 2011

  AUGUST 23, 2013

  AUGUST 24, 2013

  AUGUST 25, 2013

  AUGUST 26, 2013

  AUGUST 27, 2013

  AUGUST 28, 2013

  AUGUST 29, 2013

  AUGUST 30, 2013

  AUGUST 31, 2013

  SEPTEMBER 1, 2013

  STARTING TODAY, MARCH 17, 2013, I WILL BE LIVEBLOGGING everything i do, think, feel, and say, to the best of my ability. right now there is no one i talk to frequently enough to affect by my failure to follow through with tasks i said i’d do. the only person ‘keeping tabs’ on my life is me. as time has been passing, i have been feeling an equally uncontrollable sensation of my life not belonging to me or something. like it’s just this event i don’t seem to be participating in much, and so could be attending by mistake. maybe i wasn’t invited. clerical error. i witness myself willfully allowing opportunities to fade awa
y, because sometimes, for whatever reason, it is hard for me to do things that i know will make me happy.

  i can’t control getting older but i can control what i do as i age. also, i feel like my memory is deteriorating. i used to like documenting my daily activities. that seemed to help me remember more. lately the things i’ve been doing haven’t felt worth remembering, but i feel like that could just be a mind trick, and if i start writing more again, i’ll convince myself everything is basically the same as however many years ago it was when i felt more satisfied or hopeful or whatever it is i don’t feel now.

  **THIS IS NOT GOING TO BE INTERESTING** **I AM NOT GOING TO TRY TO MAKE THIS SOUND INTERESTING OR TRY TO MAKE YOU LIKE ME OR THINK ABOUT IF YOU ARE READING THIS OR ENJOYING READING THIS, IT’S JUST GOING TO BE WHAT IT IS: A FUNCTIONAL THING THAT WILL HOPEFULLY HELP ME FEEL MORE LIKE IMPROVING MYSELF**

  going to start a little earlier, with what happened earlier tonight:

  2:00AM: pushed orange peel down garbage disposal and walked to my room. heard garbage disposal turn on, then dad’s voice announcing ‘oranges smell good’ to empty kitchen and living room.

  2:30AM: walked to mom’s room to show parents youtube video of ‘the meaning of life’ by don hertzfelt. during opening credits dad said ‘oh wow, the sundance film festival,’ and ‘a long trip down a birth canal.’ mom gently quieted him. focused on eating my orange. parents laughed in a manner like they felt pressured, maybe, when the cartoons started talking. stars replaced the talking cartoons and dad said ‘oh, well now that made me like it,’ stressing ‘that.’ near the end of the video, a small alien is left alone to look at the stars. mom sounded teary and like she might be smiling. dad talked excitedly about not understanding what the video was trying to say but he really, really liked it, like ‘hoo boy did i ever like that.’ mom said ‘it’s not over yet, mike.’ dad adjusted his posture and said ‘oh! oh no, hush, let’s hush and see what else happens.’ i didn’t look at either parent. the poignant part of the video had passed. i said ‘yeah, so.’ credits scrolled over pretty galaxy-like orbs. i said ‘yeah, the guy, he didn’t use computers to make it.’ dad said ‘oh, no computers? oh wow it was just great, wow, really great, is there some kind of website i can get to, to get to this guy? i really didn’t quite get it but the flavor of it is just so, wow. it’s really something.’ i said ‘i don’t know his website.’ it was hard to look at dad. i said goodnight. mom smiled and dad thanked me again for showing him the movie. i walked back to my room, feeling like i had just missed a crucial, seemingly easily-made three-pointer and the other team had taken possession of the ball.

  3:12AM: plugged drain and turned faucets. sat in my room, waiting for tub to fill. dad stood in hallway between bathroom and my room and asked about my symptoms, which stopped a few days ago, and i’m pretty sure were caused by drugs i did in new york. i haven’t wanted parents to worry so i’ve been feigning a slow recovery from a stomach flu. told dad i’m feeling better. he reminded me xanax would help me sleep and i thanked him. placed macbook on chair in front of tub, for ‘bathtub internet viewing station.’ retrieved papaya from fridge. snorted medium-large amount of heroin from cute box given to me by tao, from a recent trip to taiwan. it’s a square made of four smaller squares with lids. almost transparent blue color. tapped baggie until ‘heroin quadrant’ was filled with an amount of powder, for next time. undressed and got in tub.

  4:00AM: sort of ignored gchat from ex-boyfriend, then responded. he hasn’t yet. washed and conditioned hair. submerged all but eyes and nose under water. felt anemone-like. rubbed fingernails up and down legs and watched grayish flecks of skin float around body. thought about things i said i’d do by monday. replied to two emails with difficulty, typing with one hand and covering an eye with the other. rinsed with fresh water, unplugged drain, toweled dry. ate 1mg xanax.

  4:10AM: peeled orange over kitchen sink, feeling calm and warm but also ‘is this…too much…does ‘too much’ feel like this?’ pictured dad in the morning, using garbage disposal and announcing ‘oranges smell good’ like he did earlier tonight, only i’m dead in my bed.

  4:30AM: researched heroin/xanax interactions. seems like i’ll probably just sleep a lot tonight. probably wouldn’t hurt to vomit.

  4:42AM: used variety of finger pressures/speeds to encourage chunks of mostly undigested fruit into toilet bowl. saw a little fresh blood on thumb. used to be able to vomit by like, tickling the back of my tongue. drank water and jumped/twisted abdomen, to stir anything that had settled, then kneeled for ‘the final emptying.’ legs felt weak. vomit was pretty, shades of orange. realized i was looking at it without thoughts/emotions, but some similarly dominant level of brain activity. flushed toilet. brushed teeth, washed face. ate raw ‘go pecan pie’ granola bar.

  5:36AM: the things i’ve done tonight are not things i would normally tell people i did, i think.

  6:11AM: stomach is making whale noises. starting to hear distant cars. it’s always bad when you start to hear cars. wish i wanted to masturbate. i feel like, 5000 years old, like leto ii in ‘god emperor of dune.’

  6:35AM: drinking unpasteurized milk mom said ‘comes right from the cow.’ holding four raspberry cookies. probably going to get seconds.

  6:56AM: looked at facebook and felt sad and bewildered and like ‘shit, what did i do’ about a person i like, who has indirectly communicated negative feelings about me. ‘in my younger, wilder days’ i probably would’ve tried harder to make amends. now i accept not being liked. that’s depressing, seems like faulty logic. when you resign, you think you’re being openminded because you’re accepting something you’d rather not, but really you’re just less open to possibilities other than ‘i will feel disappointed.’ i could type more about this but it feels better not to. interesting. want to eat two egg mcmuffins and hash browns and orange juice and for it to be night all tomorrow.

  8:25AM: woke feeling as bad but not worse than yesterday. ate 1mg xanax ‘for medicinal purposes.’ toasted ‘bagel thin’ condensed bagel. spread chive cream cheese on half that didn’t burn. want more sleep. smells like burning.

  8:45AM: unplugged toaster. troubled by ‘sleeping at sunrise then waking every two or three hours until early evening’ routine. going to look at internet and wait for xanax to kick in.

  11:00AM: woke to muffled talking sounds punctuated by basso voice of dad, who seemed to be agreeing with something a lot. covered head and macbook with blanket.

  3:15PM: my job was to paint the freshmen’s tents pink. i knew earth would explode in a few minutes, because the universe was resetting. this had been shown to me in a kind of pre-flight safety video. the freshman looked human but acted like feral cats. they shared a brain with ‘feral cat concerns.’ i was their caretaker, kind of. they wanted sex with me. told dream to mom. she said ‘are you sure you want to be moving to new york right now?’ i said ‘i don’t know what else to do, i need to do something, i feel like i’m dying.’ put spinach, avocado, cucumber, coconut water, banana in blender. mom described plot of murder mystery novel. i looked for another banana or a suitable second banana substitute. mom said ‘i’m so glad you don’t want to be an F.B.I. agent.’ i said ‘yeah, i thought about being one, back when i watched ‘silence of the lambs.’ they don’t let you do drugs though.’ she said ‘what?’ i said ‘it seems too hard.’

  3:53PM: mom said ‘meggie do you want dad to bring home some bananas? he should be home soon.’ i said ‘no thank you, that’s okay, i’ll get them.’ she said ‘it really wouldn’t be a problem.’ i said ‘i know, i know, i just feel like i want to take a drive,’ like napoleon dynamite. ate 10mg adderall.

  things i need to do today:

  • write letter recommending myself as if i am tao and he is my employer

  • ask keith (friend/former boss) if he’ll write short letter recommending me, or if he’ll endorse letter i’ll write as him

  • ask colin (real estate agent) what time and where in NYC he wants to meet tomorrow
>
  • write cover letter for apartment application binder

  • buy binder for apartment application binder

  • write article for vice column

  4:11PM: texted keith, asked if he wants to get drinks tonight. texted colin. colin is three years younger than me, owns a small business, works tech support for cable company he might also own, has served in military, has yet to but will most surely definitely graduate college. dwarves me with his success. lives in the apartment across the hall from the one i want.

  4:17PM: watching video of sam pink reading at KGB. he looks handsome, like grecian god style. he’s said ‘sour cream’ twice, so far. people laughed onscreen. the lighting is making his face look like ‘what the other hitman would’ve been told not to remember.’ sort of remember where i stood in relation to camera that night. would be crazy if i knew where i stood in relation to camera at all times. need to get my ass out the door to buy bananas. he said ‘sour cream’ again.

  4:26PM: skipped to kitchen, making a noise like ‘blreelerleeloobleeloolooloo.’ opened four-pack steaz energy drinks and took one as a reward for ‘being so productive so far.’ skipped back to room thinking ‘how will i type ‘blreelerloorlooleeloo’ noise?’ no responses from keith or colin yet. going to read liveblog i’ve written as a reward. this is not a reward. shit. i should just get moving instead. no, allow yourself small rewards, otherwise this won’t work. small rewards. shit.

  4:32PM: keith texted ‘Dang. Id love to madge, but I’m afraid I can’t.’

  **IF ANYONE READING THIS WOULD LIKE TO WRITE A SHORT LETTER RECOMMENDING ME, LIKE, PRETENDING YOU KNOW ME AS AN EMPLOYEE BUT HAVE COME TO THINK OF ME AS A FRIEND YOU TRUST THE WAY YOU TRUST A NEIGHBOR OR TENANT WHICH ARE BOTH AREAS YOU THINK I COULD EXCEL—COLIN SAID IT WOULD BE GOOD TO INCLUDE THE WORD ‘INTEGRITY’—PLEASE EMAIL ME, WILL PAY YOU, NEEDS TO SOUND LIKE WE’VE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR YEARS **

  **MY LIFE IS………………………………….JESUS………..FEEL…..JESUS…………….

  5:26PM: matthew donahoo has come to my rescue with a sweet letter of recommendation and writing topic lists. masha has started liveblog project. sam cooke emailed list too. my crotch smells like coconut oil.

  6:02PM: mom brought a big beige ‘industrial strength’-looking blanket to my room and said ‘do you want this, for emergencies? for the trunk of your car? you can fold it.’ i said ‘sure’ and she walked away, leaving the obviously-not-her-style blanket. ate b-vitamin, zeolite supplement. sent two emails. paid matthew. have been feeling, like, waiting for something, and ready, like in ‘a farewell to arms’ where they’re in the trench and haven’t eaten and ernest hemingway brings them moldy cheese and pasta and then they get bombed. going to leave for whole foods now.