dear summer, my brain is broken

Started re-reading The Infinite Jest with the vague intention of actually finishing it this time, figuring that 20 pages a day is totally doable in terms of getting to the end before "summer reading" time is totally over and I have to go inside permanently and read something more nourishing. (omg I HATE that word!!)

Problem is it's so not a summer book. I'm thinking about all the times you call somebody and their outgoing voicemail is all "Hey, I'll be out of town until Thursday whatever date" and what if they aren't out of town at all?? But holed up in the apartment doing anxious bong rips. It has probably happened in (my) real life at least a couple times.

I just feel super-weird because last night I had this nightmare where Jennifer Aniston told me I am wasting the best years of my life. But since later I'm gonna go have a picnic in a park where some nerds are re-enacting that one episode of "Star Trek" where Spock gets Vulcan boner fever, that can't possibly be true, right?