Oh My Legs

Ah shit it hurts like the dickens. God damn it hurts like a mother fucker.

I decided it wasn’t what I thought. What I thought was that I never give myself time to sit around and do nothing and just be and do something that I like doing and relax and so on. It’s the opposite. I have too much of that and I just get morose and shit, and I should just fucking do my shit. Just do some stuff. I decided that a few days ago. Now I’m tired as shit. I feel like a hobo on a one way train to Harnatha.

It was a bad idea what I did yesterday, which was eat at four, work like a mother fucker, get home at 2 and then leave to bike to work not eat anything until today at 10 AM. Biking to work was a real bitch like that. I felt like I was going to die. I got to eat. I ordered some protein powder type stuff so hopefully I can just drink that the whole time I’m at work since I obviously don’t get lunch breaks and such.

Ah shit. But I’ve been trying to get away from writing, too, and blogging in particular. I don’t know I guess I started to feel like I was addicted. I’m scared of addiction I guess.

I’m not sure if my latest idea to just do more work is good or bad. The first day was awesome, but the second day was just ok. Today I didn’t have time to do anything because I just worked all day and now I’m home and GF is away at a culinary party so of course I’m just sitting around eating bad food and not doing anything that I should or don’t want to because fuck it I rarely come home before twelve and usually just have to go straight to sleep.

Don’t know what else to say right now, though I thought I was just going to write and write and write. I guess I should just stop thinking about that and just write whatever dumb shit comes to mind. I guess I’ll do that next time.

Holy Shit

I’m trying to tell myself that I don’t have to get everything done in a day. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Sometimes I feel like life begins when you wake up and ends when I go to work, or when I go to bed, like whatever I have to do in life I have to do it today. I think it’s from always telling myself to carpe diem and thinking I could die at any moment. Well unless you’re going to get crazy and steal some cars and hike the Appalachian Trail and try a back flip off the roof I guess you’re not really living up to your full potential. I guess I’m not living like every day is my last, anyway, so I might as well not think like it.

It’s almost time for me to go to work and I’ve spent the day doing all manner of trivial things that need to get doing and right now I don’t feel that usual sense of accomplishment. I guess some of that has to do with the fact it took going to Comcast and messing with wires for three hours to fix the internet, which I didn’t know was going to be broken today.

It’s funny how I always think of things to write about, and then write them in posts to write about later, but then I never write about them again, because I never really read over the last post, and in fact would probably rather never see my writing again. Until like ten years from now to see what was going on in that year or whatever.

I applied for a credit card today in case I ever need to rent a car or whatever, I should have one, and Capital One keeps sending me offers for a car that “gets you back on track.” Bank of America offers a card that you pay a deposit and that’s your credit limit. Then you use the card, and it builds your credit. So Capital One, well I figured it was some shit like that. Anyway I don’t have any credit cards because they’ve all practically gone to collections so I figured I might need it. Basically for renting a car. I figured I’d get like a two hundred dollar credit limit. They approved my application right away and gave me three thousand dollars. Now what the fuck kind of sense does that make? Don’t they see all my other cards aren’t getting the money they gave me back? Well, I suppose they hope to make enough in interest, as the rate goes to 22 percent in November. I guess they figure if they can keep me paying minimum payments for three years before it goes into collections they can get a thousand dollars or something. I don’t know but that shit is crazy.

Soon as I saw the number I was like…oh shit…I’m going to the Caribbean motherfuckers! Hell yeah getting my tiki on bitches! Shit I probably will, these dumb bastards giving me three thousand dollars. That’s the dumbest thing I’ve eve seen. Not really.

But yeah, shit, just wanted to roll up on here and type some shit out real quick and let ya’ll know I’m alive, I know you missed the rambling these last two days.

This world is crazy.

I got mad preparations to undertake for tomorrow and I’m not even doing anything that fancy. I’m putting together a tart from a recipe by Once Upon a Tart, that pastry shop in New York. And we don’t even have reservations to the place we want to go to, we’re hoping to just sit at the bar. That shit could be a complete disaster. But anyway I took the night off, which is something I haven’t done for years so, how bad could it be.

My reading time has really taken a cut with this riding the bike thing, since I can’t read like I did on the bus. Shit. And the customers are really starting to get on my nerves, and I’ve been off work for four days. Yesterday was the first day back. So that’s not a good sign. I better drink some coffee or something today. Shit I thought I was over substance dependence but I guess not. I wish I could drink margaritas on the job. I’m really about to start bringing a flask.

But shit I don’t have a flask and I can’t buy anything until mid-March, since I won’t hardly make enough in the next paycheck to pay my rent and then the one after that is already ear-marked for student loans and credit card payments.

Fuck it I’ll put it on the new card.

Be easy, ya’ll. I love you.

Things I’ve Seen So Far in the Blizzard

Holy shit people are crazy. So far I’ve seen a dude with a shovel that was about twenty feet long, standing on a scaffold scraping snow from his roof. And a man spent five hours scraping off his Cadillac. He was next door. Then he drove it around the block with four feet of snow on the roof of it. Now a man is crossing in front of our window on long cross country skis. Not using the poles, just walking basically, with a shovel in his backpack. People were snowblowing the sidewalks right in the midst of the blizzard, the snow just not giving a fuck covering up their trail like that sweeper thing in Alice and Wonderland. The funniest thing has been watching the two guys trying to shovel their roof. And then this guy that looked like he was going to croak right in front of his door as he tried to shovel his walk. (Young dude or I would be nicer.) People are going mad trying to clean up the snow. I’m like, fuck it, it’s the weekend, my restaurant’s closed again, I’m not opening my door! It looked way prettier before these people fucked it all up with their incessant need to clean shit up or whatever it is that drives them.

Ah Shit

Just got back from the game. Was fun. Glad I got a ride back with the homeboy’s ex-fiance’s brother. Yeah. But my team won and that’s good. I didn’t win the 100 or 200 I could’ve if the Ravens really dominated, but I did win the 12 pack of beer I bet my man so that’s good enough I suppose.

I came up with some cool shit to say. But can’t think of it now. Had too much to drink and what not. Going to try to sleep. Than GF is going to school and time for me to put the mother fucking hammer down on this shit.

The End of the Day

Readability Index: Not Terrible If You’ve Got Time to Kill

That’s what it is. And so we have come to this. And so I have come to this.

Man, shit, I just got all caught up in reading a shit ton of blogs. I do it because I like reading other blogs. But also because I want people to come on here and read my dumb shit and like that shit. It’s funny because my girlfriend was just talking about how she gets high off people liking her pics on instagram.

Man it’s crazy as shit. I’m reading all these blogs, all up in these people’s brains like it’s Being John Malkovich in here. It’s pretty crazy because back in the day just a few months or years ago I wouldn’t read anything but the classic novels. I wouldn’t watch TV or anything. I just wanted to read things that stood the test of time, that were respectable, and respected. I thought that way I wouldn’t waste time winnowing through the endless stream of bullshit that’s out there. And now here I am, no longer concerned with winnowing even my own thoughts, just straight wallowing in bullshit. But you know, it’s not even bullshit out here. These swamps are filled with gold. I mean, people say the craziest shit. And everybody’s trying to figure shit out. People typing their hearts out here. A lot of it doesn’t boggle the mind when you read it. A lot of it doesn’t bear rereading. But almost all of it is worth reading once. It’s not like a stream of youTube comments out here.

I always tried to think of myself as a gifted writer. As a serious writer. I wanted only to write a novel. But now I don’t even know how I came to that conclusion. Or rather I know exactly how. It just sounded lie the right thing to do. Sounds nice. Novelist. Sounds like what you should do if you can write. A novel is just a respectable thing. All the way up until beyond my junior year of college, when I found myself in an advanced fiction writing workshop based around short fiction, I didn’t even know what a short story was. I thought it was a novel that had less words. Man, shit, you can just roll up on the blogosphere and start typing the dumbest shit and somebody’s going to read that shit, even just because you read their shit that they might didn’t think was worth nobody reading it. And what else is needed then? Should you have changed their life? Did you fail if you didn’t? Fuck if I know. Like I’m always saying, motherfucking sun’s bout to explode all over all our asses anyway so might as well get your kicks. Yeah I say that every five minutes, I’d say it more often but it takes about five minutes to say.

It’s crazy too because you can look around and pick out what people are good at. You can say, damn I wish I was funny as that girl, or attractive as that one, or I wish I had a shit ton of awesome pictures to post every five minutes and a service to offer, I wish I had mad insights like that dude or I wish I had the drive to spend a lot of time researching and putting together a kick ass factual jam like that dude. And everybody knows what you’re supposed to be doing is doing you, but that shit is never illustrated like it is here. Here it’s like you can find twenty-five real live motherfuckers failing miserably at doing what they think they should be doing, but succeeding at doing some kind of other thing. I don’t know. That shit is nonsensical but it makes sense to me. It’s weird because you know most people aren’t going to keep posting, just like most people aren’t going to keep doing anything besides breathing eating and going to the job that has a good health plan and doesn’t totally suck all the time. Most people that can post anyway. People that can’t even post like some cart runners in India they ain’t even half concerned with expressing themselves to the global community. Mother fuckers live in shantytowns with all the friends they care about impressing. And that’s what it comes down to, the idea of the over used word ‘community.’ Because really we’ve lost the real community, the extended family, the place where everybody knows your name and that your little sister had three abortions and is sleeping with the town mayor. And instead we have friends in cities thousands of miles away. We text a mother fucker who’s next door to ask for some salt. Just leave it outside the door thanks. And god damn, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Unless I could have free alcohol. Give me unlimited rye whiskey and a long wooden table and a bunch of people I know entirely too much about and I’ll be alright. But these kinds of perfect situations don’t exist even in the times of the past. Someone was always charging for  the whiskey, and the people all betrayed each other in horrendous ways, and they all died when flu season came around. And they killed all the Indians with smallpox blankets. And they burned homosexuals. Yeah it’s probably better that we’re all safe in our homes. Eating dope ass chicken salad and listening to music that’s made in little boxes with little boxes that have lights on them, burning a candle on the table to remind of us of the primeval fires we had to gather around so as not to get eaten by something bigger than us, and brushing our teeth with something probably made by a twelve pound pygmy getting paid a dollar a century. It’s a good life if you can get it. And this blogging shit, well, shit dude. How fucking great does it get. You can put your own head inside of a box and have people look at it and give you thumbs up. And you never once have to see them. And they can’t talk behind your back, because the little box is always in front of you.

Man this blogging shit is so crazy. I don’t even know what’s going on.

And my little WordPress comment indicator is lighting up so I’m going to just go ahead and push my favorite button and find out who the fuck wants to connect now.

Hot Damn I Can’t Get Anything Done in Life

Readability Index: Weak

Well I been home for about an hour, and I was productive as a bitch out there in the snowy wilderness, but now that I’m home, well shit I meant to do all kinds of stuff. And stuff that was fun, too, nothing crazy. Although I keep forgetting about my laundry. Like I meant to make some coffee. And also…something else that I forgot. And I barely took my coat off, I just had to sit down and check what was going on over here. This may prove to be an unsustainable addiction. Ok I’m going to make coffee for real now. And breathe deeply.

I’ll listen to the Frank Ocean song afterwards! 😛 Or wait what the fuck…the whole post has disappeared. Carmen, you’ll have to get that right before I come back.

Holy Shit It’s Snowing Again

Readability Index: Moderately Readable

Well this is pretty crazy. I’m sitting in the office, just reading shit and writing more shit and feeling like shit…no not really I feel pretty good. But I look up and there’s snow just falling like pieces of Styrofoam…or that stuff that falls out from the sky in a nuclear winter. I don’t know but it looks great, because I have no lights on in the house and it just got dark and the flakes are shiny and it’s cold as a bitch out there and it’s warm in here. So it’s pretty sweet. It was snowing the whole time I was outside, but not this heavy, and when you’re in the thick of it you don’t have much time or attention to devote to looking at it. And even if you did it’s a completely different perspective.

Forgetting to Eat

Ah shit. Everything looks cool in blog form. Fuck it I’m just going to type on here all the time. Good God what time is it. I am feeling weird. I have been sitting for over three hours. Shit. I never do that. I need some coffee. I’ve had to piss for most of those three hours I think, and I turned the god damn heat on for no reason. I thought I was going to go into the office where it’s usually cold but when you turn on the heat it feels great but anyway I’m just sitting here at the dining room table.

Hoo dang. Going to go make some cocktails. Well, another morning of not feeling accomplished. Just what the fuck do I have to do to feel good about shit. Idleness is the ultimate sin. Or is it just the garden of sin. Idleness is the fertile soil in which sin is rooted. Ah fuck me I have to wash the dishes before I go, too. Christ.

When’s the next bus coming? What’s important in life? Well, obviously nothing at all, since if there’s any other civilization in the universe that knows how to travel from galaxy to galaxy they’ll show up here by tomorrow afternoon and use us all for energy so that they can…just keep doing that to someone else. And they’ll all be like, ah shit, here we go again destroying another planet. Fuck this shit. And we have to wash the dishes before we get there.

And if there aren’t any other civilizations trying to do that, well all of our children’s children’s children will just be consumed by the sun anyway. Or they’ll escape and become a civilization that goes around looking for other civilizations so they can give them smallpox blankets.

I’ve got recommended links now and they are three: shit, God, and Christ, in that order. Well…shit.

PS: WordPress also now it recommends ‘Television” as a tag. Don’t understand that at all.

Free Morning

What does it mean when you have a free morning? Well for me it means that I don’t go to work until night time. Around two PM or so. I think I don’t write before then because I feel like I should do something productive, and that doesn’t feel productive, and so then I usually give up on doing something productive and don’t write either…I usually clean something and then watch porn jerk off and watch a movie. So in the end I didn’t do anything productive anyway. Nothing to distinguish this day from the myriad days before it. Usually these kinds of days I only feel good when I’m eating. I don’t feel good then either.

“The universal demand for happiness and the widespread unhappiness in our society (and they are but two sides of the same coin) are among the most persuasive signs that we have begun to live in a labor society which lacks enough laboring to keep it contented. For only the animal labors, and neither the craftsman nor the man of action, has ever demanded to be ‘happy’ or thought that mortal man could be happy.”

Hannah Arendt said that. She was apparently a German philosopher or politician or both. I don’t know, shit I just saw the quote somewhere and it made sense to me at the time.

DH Lawrence said, “Work is the best, and a certain numbness, a merciful numbness.” I think that’s quoted right. Some other French guy said something about work being the only way to distract yourself from the fact that you are going to die, or you are dying, or something like that.

Yeah shit I feel that shit like a motherfucker. God damn. If I’m not at work I’m wondering what the fuck I am doing. And I don’t sit around wanting to go to work either. I feel like Milo in The Phantom Tollbooth. When I’m at school I want to be at home and when I’m at home I want to be at school.

Hoo shit. I think I’ll change this theme. I think it’s a wedding theme right now.

The funny thing about life is that last week I slept until twelve every day so to be up right now well shit I’m already at it. Fuck it. I think I just need some chemicals, and nothing crazy either, just a lot of caffeine or a lot of alcohol and I’m all good, wait for death in a peaceable way.

Damn but it’s cold up in this mother fucker and yesterday well…it’s not so much cold but my fingers are cold and I don’t know how to cure that and it’s the most annoying thing.

But I was thinking we are so removed from inconvenience in our modern world. Cold outside? Fuck it, come inside. We all got houses. Hungry? Fuck it, eat. Cut yourself shaving? Son of a bitch. If you were shivering in the cold trying to hunt a wallaby and that shit came after you in a horde of em like they were going to wash over you like a flood when the levee broke well you wouldn’t be shaving anyway.

Fuck it.

Rum and the Philippines

This picture shows some graffiti in Brooklyn, New York

I like this wall

Shit. Maybe this has nothing to do with rum or the Philippines. But anyway fuck it. I’m going all out on this one and calling up Rumpelstiltskin and the gang. That’s what I told myself an hour ago, but I’m still here, just me, drinking this beer and scratching my eye lids.

About four hours ago I had a redeye, or a shot-in-the-dark, or a brewski, a coffee with espresso in it however you’d like to say it. Won’t be able to sleep for a while and that’s how I like it. I’ve listened to the song Anyone’s Ghost by The National 9 times in a row since I sat down a minute ago. Or an hour ago. No an hour ago I danced around the kitchen and did the dishes. Fuck it.

Yeah so I was reading about rum and the Philippines. This one rum called Don Papa named after a hero of the Philippines. Someone who apparently helped liberate the island of Negros from Spanish rule. Now is it Negros the island…or is there an island called Negros Occidental…or is that a town? I don’t know. Shit I could find out but I’ll save it for later. Something I don’t know.

God damn I am in shape. How did I get this way? I don’t know. For dinner I ate a pound and a half of elbow macaroni. Did I say dinner because I meant I ate that around dinner time. Then later I ate leftover Chinese food, enough that it could be considered dinner, too. Fuck it.

Shit, Rumpelstiltskin is not spelled Rumplestiltskin. Rumple is a word, though. My brain feels rumply right now. Hoo shit it looks like Rumply is a word, too.

Fuck it.

Anyway I’m thinking about going to the Philippines. And they drink a lot of rum there. Apparently, Tom Brown and I have read the same book. He’s sticking loggerheads into rum and sugar concoctions and calling it flip, and well he should since I have just read a book that talked about doing just that and calling it flip back in the days when the states were just colonies. That book was …And a Bottle of Rum. Which apparently was one of the lines of the old school version of a Katy Perry song.

But shit, what’s the point? To any of it or all of it. Fuck it, I don’t know. I really don’t. The whole thing smells funny in a metaphorical way. I wish I knew what a metaphor really was, but it’s hard to pin those fuckers down.

I think I’ll go around and comment on some people’s blog posts.

Fuck it.