Relaxed

My wife said yesterday that I looked good. She said I looked relaxed. And I guess I did look relaxed. One time, this guy said I looked I was being consumed from within.

I feel many positive emotions just from the little bit of honesty I’ve been able to achieve so far. I feel more powerful and effective. I do feel more relaxed. My head feels more spacious. 

But I’m still really scared of confrontation and the things that I’ve decided to do. I don’t know if I’ll ever actually go through with the scariest confessions. But I’m sure the stronger, future me will be able to handle it. Right now, I still get sick thinking about how I’m going to break it to my bar manager that I don’t want to go hiking with her ever. That’s a weird situation that’s been on my mind as a kind of test for myself. It’s my wife who really doesn’t want to go, but I’m tired of blaming shit on her. And if I think about it the only reason I would go hiking with the bar manager is because she keeps asking me. So you see when you think about it I don’t even know what it means not to want to do something. I’m so used to doing whatever I have to do to avoid disagreeing with someone. In the past I would just make something up, like a heart condition.

So yeah anyways for the most part I feel pretty relaxed. 

Interlude

I didn’t smoke weed, and I didn’t drink, but under the fluorescent lights of Canal Street Station I feel like a thing that slithers. Somehow my fingernails got dirty. I was walking with the girl who I was formerly obsessed with, and I was telling her what I thought was a very interesting story. What I know was an interesting story, in fact, from her gasps every time we hit a pivotal point. And then, in the middle, we ran into some old friends of hers she hadn’t seen in a while. She’s from here and she’s popular, so this happens a lot. There were eight of them. Normally I would just smile and shake everyone’s hand and all that, but I just couldn’t give a fuck about these people and how they knew each other and anything like that, so I stood off to the side and waited for her to ask for her bag so she could go with them. I enjoyed the breeze and I checked my phone. Finally she called me over and her friends were like wtf why are you just standing over there! Meanwhile she had just asked minutes ago why I never do what I want. So that was the thing I wanted, to not talk to these people. I was really fine with her leaving with them, very convenient escape for me, but I did not want to meet them all for no reason. But I did anyway because what kind of asshole would I have to be to hand her her bag and say goodbye and nothing else. So I shook hands with every single one of them. There were people she didn’t even know and I shook hands with them, too. One guy said now repeat our names back to us. I said, I value you guys as people but I don’t have a memory like that. Everyone thought that was funny. You had to be there. So now I look awesome. From weirdo to awesome in sixty seconds. After five excruciating minutes where everyone tried to pretend that we could have an inclusive conversation, they ask what’s up next. I hand my friend her bag and say goodbye, shaking hands with enthusiasm and warmth and real kindness in my eyes. Eight people I will never see again, now they all have a piece of my soul. The train just won’t seem to arrive. 

Dark

This girl made me think. Why does that happen? There was a girl in Boston who made me think.
Sure I’m always thinking, but I’m usually thinking the same thing. Some variation of the same thing.

But in these two instances, all the lights in my head went on for a blinding few seconds. Then they went out with a hiss and I found myself on cold, damp, soft weird shit, just shivering there.

A neurotic mess: myself, but worse.

The first descent in darkness was interrupted with some real practical type shit. I got fired, so I had to find a job and make money fast and I’m no good at that. Working seven days a week saved me from suicide or enlightenment.

Then this most recent descent.

My inner life was cruising along at medium shitty, nice and comfy. Then I met her and the ride got bumpy. I thought, why these moments of transcendence, mixed with these hours of extreme neurosis and nausea?

I asked: why am I stuck in this marriage, why can’t I just do what I want, why don’t I ever do drugs or listen to music in the dark or jump off cliffs?

Then I found the answer to why I don’t do those things. It wasn’t because I’m married. It’s because I believe that life is stupid and pointless, and I believe that if it was designed, it was designed to fuck with me.

Ten years ago, when I found out Genesis didn’t really happen, I laughed and said, you’ll never fool me again, Culture. Society. White men in long robes. Fuck y’all. I bought a bottle of Chivas, like my new hero Hunter Thompson, and I went to fuckin town.

Ten years I believed in nothing. You don’t know! I said to everyone. You don’t know shit, none of you do because none of you can, and anyone that thinks they know anyone is deluding themselves. And more power to those assholes, because I’d love to be able to delude myself. But I couldn’t delude myself. I had seen the truth, and it was an abyss.

Ten years I worked in restaurants thinking that the reason I didn’t get out of it was that I wasn’t using my free time effectively.

Ten years and longer than that, I lied with abandon, fashioning a chameleon armor around my starving, angry soul to keep everything away, to keep alive in a world that couldn’t give a shit.

But how is it that these two girls broke in where others didn’t?

Probably something to do with sex and something else to do with my mother.

Gotta go, bitches. More later.

Spoiler alert: I still don’t believe, and I’m still married.

Click here to go to part two.

I Used To Play the Drums

At work today I tried to remember how to play the drums. My brother was showing me these guys who play drums for money. I was like damn I could have done that. But I didn’t think that was an option.

So anyways I downloaded a metronome app and just made the motions of keeping a beat. I probably can’t set up my drums here in New York, but I bet I could pretty good just pretending I’m actually hitting drums.

Damn how sexy would I be then? Drummer, bartender, writer. I better start working out. 

Prelude to Something Worth Reading

I went home. I got back. I forgot to post yesterday. That’s a chink in my plan to post every day until 2018. Since I failed, I would usually give up now. So instead I’ll just post twice today and keep it going. 

I’m afraid to change things here on this blog because Gordon Flanders is a nihilist and proud of it. Me I’m tired of seeming like I’m getting away with everything.

I’m thirty years old. I’ve been living ten years as a nihilist if not in action at least in thought. My life looks okay from the outside but my thoughts are fucked up. I got secrets.

And I’m finding out how much of a follower I am, philosophically. It’s okay to be unoriginal as long as you know it. I thought being nihilistic was the way that everyone should be, because it’s the truth that nothing matters. How could anything have value in a crazy world like ours.

But it turns out I bought my worldview at the same store as everyone else.

Stick around y’all. Looks like I’ve still got some interesting posts up my sleeves.