The Disapproval of a New Friend

Flickering lights above the panty store. An irreversible march towards summoning a black car T6 something something something. So many thoughts you can’t separate them, you can’t even pick a handful. A damn shame the weather so nice and why you sitting there quart container full of acid reflux in your lap. Alone. Waiting to help out a friend with a fetish. 

You’re not clever, you know, when you speak like that. You’re not clever, you know, when you talk to yourself like that.

Wouldn’t have noticed the battery on edge if I didn’t pull up Spotify looking for Travis Scott. Never heard of this dude till the other night, I swear. I swear I never did! I don’t watch what you watch, everyone. I don’t do the things everyone does!

Hahaha fuck it. Yeah I do. I’m a classic man. I’m an average man. I’m a man in a bench with a stomach ache and cartilage in my teeths.

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Night Call

Dude. Shits crazy.

I’m in love with everyone. Just want to go out all the time. Hang out. Can’t stand being home the only one awake late at night. Need somebody I can text all kinds of crazy shit. Need a day job. I ran all day, did all kinds of shit, had fifteen moments of transcendence. Get home and it’s not enough. Staring at splotches of color on my lovers face under the harsh subway lights.

Ah.

What to do. Get a different job. Keep this job. Drink all night. Sleep all night. Calm down, you’ll be asleep soon enough what’s the big deal? I don’t know but it is a big deal. Never want anything to end. Except this interminable loneliness at the end of the night. 

Wife is asleep. Wife wake up. Let’s be together now. Don’t wake me up, she says. Don’t make me not asleep, she says. If you stare at me too hard she says it wakes me up. 

Nah. 

Maybe jerk off. Maybe I should try some pills. Maybe I shoulda smoked some weed. But no, tried that before. Came home the oven light wasn’t even on. Brother’s down the street. What’s good? Could try it out. He’s only 66% as old as I am, what does he know? Maybe if he was a girl I wasn’t related to. Need to work harder apparently. Work too hard to sleep. 

Probably figure I’m looking at porn right now. With the bathroom fan on. The only room I can be alone in. I suppose I could write at the table, who would know? I suppose I could try that after all. 

But then again I need my rest. I must go to bed. I must go to sleep. It’s only a few minutes of restlessness. Just push on through to the other side. 

Someone! 

Ran for the train. Caught the train.

Last night I went out drinking and drunk texted everyone, even the girl from Boston. Anyone will do when I get drunk. I feel so lonely at home. I never want to leave the bar. But I left around 2:30 and was all responsible and took a car and shit and got home safe and when I got there I was pissed and lonely.

Then I woke up this morning feeling so embarrassed about the dumbass texts I had sent.

Then I worked twelve hours and now I’m on the fuckin train home and it’s way before midnight. 

People are making out like fuckin emus over here. All necks and awkwardness. 

No Hope for the Maldives

I had a beer and allergies today on the balcony. They were cutting down a tree across the street. They couldn’t do it all at once, they had to tie ropes around the limbs. They fed the pieces into a machine that ground them to dust. The dust settled on cars nearby and a man sprayed the cars with a gas powered leaf blower. The clouds settled in, and I fell asleep to piano music punctuated by the din. 

Dark Part 3

Click here to start at Part 1

Why couldn’t I leave my wife and do whatever I wanted? I wasn’t strong enough, that’s why. I had never really broken up with anyone, and I had also never really had a confrontation with anyone, thanks to my uncanny diplomatic abilities.

And so that meant I had to make it seem like I was a good husband. I had to do everything I could to make her happy, and besides that I had to avoid having a fight with her. I couldn’t stand to fight with her, and besides, I had nothing to say to her in a fight. I had no will of my own. Why should I have an opinion when nothing can be proven or disproven.

So we had no fights, except the ones over my drinking, which was out of control. I would drink and not text her because I didn’t want to have to fight about it and I knew if I texted her I was drinking she would say something snarky and then if I got drunk enough I would drunk text her a long nicely worded ‘fuck you.’

But those were our only fights and we didn’t delve too deep into why I was drinking like that.

So with no fights our relationship didn’t really grow much from when we had started. I was a different person than the guy who started dating her years earlier, but I acted the same towards her, only now I drank.

Since I was too weak to break up with her, I had to maintain some kind of normalcy, even though I had these self destructive urges. I had to keep them in check. So I resented her for that, but even then I knew she was kind of keeping me alive.

Now, looking back, it’s crazy how my whole life seems to have revolved around women. I guess that’s not very original, but I didn’t see it coming.

Anyway, I guess that’s what I’ve got to say about that. I am ready to have real fights and really get to know her now, and hopefully one day I will be strong enough to tell her everything that I ever hid from her. As for now, I’ll just do my best not to create new things to hide from her. 

The girl with whom I was formerly obsessed and I still hang out and talk. It’s possible I made up her reciprocation of my feelings for her, but even if I didn’t I haven’t given her a reason to feel heartbroken if I never make a move or tell her how I feel about her. She is smart enough not to trust married men, I’m sure.

Dark Part 2

You can read part 1 here.

I guess, like many children who were raised as Christians, I’ve always had a problem with sex. I didn’t even have actual sex with my girlfriend of three years from the age of 16 to 19 because it was one of the hard lines of Christian morality that I would not cross. All I did as a teenager was think about sex, but I knew I mustn’t act on the thoughts. I even felt super guilty when I masturbated.

When I met the woman who became my wife, she was so beautiful that I couldn’t resist her. I didn’t tell her until months in that I was deeply religious and had felt that all the sex we were having was a sin. She thought that was weird and kind of hurtful. Immediately after that conversation, we had the best sex we had ever had up to that point.

Two years into our relationship, I stopped believing in God. I derided any kind of belief in anything, even that the color of a t-shirt could be known, and prided myself on not being delusional. I began to internalize that life was a cruel joke.

Sometimes after that, my wife would want to have sex, but I wouldn’t feel like it. I would be too busy thinking about how I’m going to get myself out of this hell. I thought the answer was make more money so that everyone could leave me alone, so that I could stay home and brood and not have to do shit.

One of the few things I still enjoyed (with the other things being eating and doing drugs, mostly alcohol), was courtship: the parts leading up to sex that you were technically allowed to do as an evangelical. I assumed it was too late to court my wife, so I would court girls at work. Mostly they were girls I didn’t find attractive, so there was no danger of me getting caught up. Sometimes they were girls I found attractive, but who were used to the game and would play along with no interest in going any further.

But on two occasions, it seemed that I had found a soulmate.

The first girl did a lot of drugs, so we were able to forget about our problems and just live in the moment. Before anything happened sexually, she had some kind of breakdown and disappeared for a few days. In the time it took for her to re-establish connection, I seriously contemplated suicide one day and got fired from my job for blacking out at work and being creepy the next.

The second girl, this recent one, doesn’t drink, so instead of just checking out, we have long talks in which she challenges everything that I believe.

I had to ask myself, did I make a mistake getting married? At first I thought the answer was yes. Slowly, very slowly, I realized that I didn’t really love this girl. I loved the idea I had of her, and what my life could be like if I wasn’t bound by the only thing that kept me in the world of the living: my wife.

Why hadn’t I broken up with my wife, who was my girlfriend at the time, when I decided that life was meaningless and cruel? If nothing mattered, why couldn’t I just leave her and do drugs and listen to music and fuck the world?

Click here to go to part 3.

 

 

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.

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