Dopamine, Texts, Likes, Approval, Money

Texting, the modern art of sending written words from one phone to another instantaneously, is a scourge.

Too bad I love it.

Just another thing popping up on your phone giving you a hit of dopamine. Makes me want to download more apps that have counters on them. Those red circles at the top left corner.

Someone else cares about me. Someone else approves.

The red circle means you’re ok, you’re better than ok.

I’m going to make a kind of spider program that sends me texts from made up people and then trolls my blogs and shit and clicks like a bunch of times. Then I can unleash it on other people and we’ll all get so high with our newfound success.

Until we try to monetize it and no one buys any of our shit. Likes won’t jump a pay wall.

Should I just get rid of all those apps? Or should I lean into them and try to become a social media sensation? Will the effort I put into becoming a social media sensation be less than the effort I could put into getting a job that would pay just as well?

Why am I obsessed with money anyways. Just going to end up hoping people will text me while I’m sitting on the beach.

Getting Somewhere 

A small lady carrying a bag talks on the phone in a foreign language while a man carrying an iPad pretends to listen to music. It’s early on Saturday morning and someone is regretting their brunch reservation. A woman stands up further down the train and starts a practiced rant. Your stop comes up and you leave, thinking about next year. There are more of them outside and you see the ones doing something interesting for a second and then they, too, fade.

The Time We Sat Together

There was a chair in the corner facing the wall and I figured there was some meaning to it. “Look at that chair,” I said to my friend, well, I call him my friend but only for convenience sake. I knew him too well to be an acquaintance and cared for him too little to be a true friend.

But we all have those.

And my friend, an old man with long whiskers and garish green sunglasses said to me a most curious thing.

“I will not look,” he said. “I never look upon the dead.”

Certainties

Jan’s tax returns had to be filed by seven o’clock because then she was leaving for Anchorage, Alaska and she wouldn’t be back before the fifteenth. This thought consumed her as she stared across the East River into Manhattan. A man behind her said something that she ignored and then she was falling. It had been a senseless world after all, she thought.

A street mural of a girl thinking.

Our Last Night, You and I

An unfinished building at night with glare from street lights.

Did you imagine you knew, did you think for any amount of time, did you, in all likelihood you did, at this point I’m being extra dramatic out of disbelief. You couldn’t have possibly known what the night meant, but you walked around with that dreadful camera taking low resolution pictures of everything like you were at some kind of a zoo.

An unfinished building at night with glare from street lights.Who does that? You do, you fucking psychopathic.

Asberger’s.

Poster child.

What.

Is wrong with you?

You know what? It doesn’t even matter what’s wrong with you, it really doesn’t…it so doesn’t matter because we’re done here. Just stay away, keep your weird shit out of my space so I can try to forget you exist.

And they were all like you that night. Because that’s what you do, infect people.

I don’t even know why I have to…

I don’t have to. Fuck it, fuck you, fuck your camera, you know what. Give me that fucking camera you sick…

Nevermind. Fuck it. What’s done is fucking done I don’t give a fuck I don’t take any of it back and at the same time I’m never going back and thanks, by the way, for ruining the night.

Pointless Update #8

A skyscrape against some cloudsThe drunk crept up on me and now I feel kind of woozy and hot. I want to get up and have some coffee and write about nothing, but instead I’m under a too thick comforter, my wife asleep on my arm and one of my cats asleep on my leg. And the world outside continues. And I’m tapping on my phone again, writing nothing. Would be a good time to listen to a crumbcast

What Happened Since Thursday

A subway train and an iPhone 7 billboard

It’s Sunday. Somehow we got here again. Halfway through the week I didn’t think I would make it. Somewhere around Thursday I thought that was it for me. The girl I am obsessed with wouldn’t text me back fast enough. My wife wouldn’t text me back. I couldn’t focus on my job. Time was going so fast and weird.
Some cranes in New York CityI reached out to my nihilist friend who moved to France last year. He understood what I was going through, as best as anyone can over text messages. He sent me a video and a podcast and we talked about how annoying everything was.

I didn’t have time to listen to the podcast or watch the video. I went back into dinner service not sure how I was going to make it. I told a sympathetic coworker, who has been in a bad relationship for years, about my wife and I getting ready to have kids and how I thought I might be trapped working in restaurants forever.

I didn’t know how I was going to make it through dinner service. I ate some Altoids.

I decided to get a haircut the next day. My hair was crazy and I hadn’t slept much, so I figured that was probably the problem.

On the way home, the girl called me and we talked about nothing because her phone was broken and I couldn’t hear anything she was saying. She said she was going to get a flip phone. I said cool yeah that’s badass smartphones are for tools. She said something I couldn’t understand. I texted my friend who’s a barber now and made the appointment.

On the bus ride, I watched the video and my mind was blown. The guy basically taught a class why thinking people are nihilists these days and how that’s not much different than mental illness but it is just a little different. And a whole bunch of other stuff too. And that’s when I remembered that life really was suffering, which is such a relief to remember because when things aren’t going right I always think what did I do wrong? Of course, there are plenty of things that I’ve done wrong and continue to do wrong.

At the barbershop, we gossiped about people we both knew and how we couldn’t understand the things they did, and we laughed about that. We talked about how awesome we were, and my friend said I looked like Don Draper now that I’ve been working on this hair style for three months.

When I got home I decided to focus on bringing sexy back so I made my wife cookies and I pulled out my chest hairs one by one and I shaved and trimmed and did some pushups. Then I went to work and I didn’t text anyone and then I went home and went to sleep.

In the morning, I fucked my wife for the first time since she went off birth control. Then I walked to work and treated my customers like apparitions.

On my break, I told the girl I am obsessed with to meet me at a bar when she got finished working. She said she would so I sat in the bar drinking beer and listening to the podcast that my nihilist friend had sent me. The podcast was amazing, but as time went on, she didn’t appear, and I got sad.

Then I walked back to work and to my locker and there she was, getting ready to leave. She hadn’t come because she hadn’t gotten off work yet. I asked if she was eating at the restaurant before she left. She said yes. I said good.A tall streetlight in Brooklyn

I put my plate at one table and she put her plate on the table right next to it, instead of across from my plate so we ate together diagonally, so not really what I had in mind. She asked if anyone had made a will and my bar manager said she didn’t need a will since she had nothing of value, no family, and no partner. I said oh well there you go, easy. Then she seemed like she was about to cry. I said she had friends, but I didn’t know what else to say. I should have told her to remember that life is suffering.

When the girl that I’m obsessed with left, she texted me that she hadn’t seen me on the way out but that she hoped I had a good night.

I told her to have a good one, too, and then my bar manager handed me a pint of beer to chug because she had made a mistake and poured the wrong kind.

Later she gave me four ounces of vodka and people asked me where I was from. They said I had an accent.

Then it was midnight and it was time to go and I polished glasses while the chefs and cooks drank Modelos that a customer had bought them from the pharmacy across the street.

On my way out the door I checked out with the manager and she told me to get a pint container. She filled it with Jameson and told me to come out with them to the bar. A chef asked me three times if I was coming out. He told me that he had wished his ex-girlfriend happy birthday last night and they ended up fucking. He asked if I thought he had a problem. I said no I texted her happy birthday, too, what’s the big deal?

The other chef handed me a Modelo and I chugged it and went home. Last night I got home around 1:30 and chugged a quart of water, hoping that today could still be a productive day.

I woke up at 1:30 PM and went outside. It was too warm for the clothes I was wearing and I bought an iced coffee. Tonight I’m going out to eat with my wife, her sister, and my in-laws.A subway train and an iPhone 7 billboard

Watch Out for Pranks Today, Everyone Will Think Less of You If You Don’t See One Coming.

Some cars and a traffic light.

I’ll never let my kids work in restaurants

even though the maitre d’ said everyone should be required to work in restaurant or at least retail so they know how to act when they go out in the real world

fuck that better for my kids to carry on blithely without ever considering the emotional turmoil they’re putting people through

because they’ll have enough of their own without dealing with the possible pain of others

the kids will probably have brain damage or debilitating diseases in which case they’ll be damn lucky to work anywhere

and even if they were healthy they’d just rebel and go work in restaurants so I’ll just have to burn their restaurant down.

Some cars and a traffic light.

Sometimes I lie on the street.