I Forgot to Name This Post

It feels strange to type on a laptop keyboard now, I’ve been writing from my iPhone for the past few days. I started blogging from my phone out of necessity, and now I think it’s become almost equal to or greater than blogging from the computer. I think it makes me think more about what I’m going to write, without slowing me down as much as writing with pen and paper.

I’ve been thinking a lot about writing lately. I want more people to look at my blog and like my stuff and come back to read, so I don’t want to flood the blog with posts, but then the only thing that seems to raise the number of people who look at the blog is to write more posts. And then I always want to write, but writing in a word processor isn’t enough for me anymore. I want someone to read every god damn thing that comes out of my head.

But I’ve thought it before and I’ll stop thinking it soon and come up with it again in a couple of months: Fuck it, maybe I can get away with publishing every stupid thing I write.

Wife is back to school so that means lots of time at her computer which means lots of unsupervised time for me. I have to get working on my projects for those old guys who want to publish books, but honestly I wish I could give that shit up. I’ve felt very free these past two days, since I told them that I would get back to him in a few days once my friend left.

But I can’t give them up because they may be my key to getting out of waiting tables. If I got two more clients like them I could just stay home and work on their projects. But maybe it would be just as bad as waiting tables.

I started listening to The Self Publishing Podcast today and it was really interesting to hear those guys talk about writing for money. They are very prolific. I feel like I can’t write stories. I feel like if someone were to give me a well thought out story, I could write the scenes, but maybe I couldn’t. Fuck if I know.

Oh that’s another thing, I’ve been making a conscious effort those last few posts to censor my language because I started thinking maybe I could get freshly pressed. It started off motivated by that, and then I found that I could come up with more clear and creative way of expressing myself than cursing. But sometimes that’s just too fucking much to think about.

Hunter Thompson curses a lot in his writing but he doesn’t overdo it, in my opinion. So I think I will try to do that. But then, fuck, I’m always trying to do what other writers would do. I don’t know if I will ever figure it out. But I do know I’m too young and inexperienced to be discouraged about that, even if I’m too old and have seen too much dumb shit to believe anything good about anything.

But yeah, the blog is blowing up! Mostly because I’m engaging with the community like in the early days of last year when I reached 400 views in one month. It’s not much relative to a lot of blogs, but I haven’t been able to get anywhere near that since. I think I posted an average of three times a day that whole month.

Ah I’ve been trying to avoid writing this kind of post and stick to the interesting stuff but I guess I am too excited about writing so much. Writing begets more writing, said someone famous. And then the positive reinforcement that comes when the notifications keep popping up on my phone that someone looked at my blog or commented or liked.

That’s why I was thinking, I forget what I was reading but they were saying if you want to create something new you’ll have to do something you haven’t heard of anyone doing before, which sounds obvious, but it made me think fuck it, if I write enough posts that are interesting to me, maybe I can find enough fans to quit my job and stay home chopping down trees and drinking white lightning and blogging from my phone.

Ha, I’m not really finished writing but I just want to publish this so people can read it while I’m writing the next thing. Fucking ridiculous. I don’t know, maybe I’m a god damn genius.

How I Feel After Reading the Works of Chris Guillebeau

I’m having a bit of a psychological debate with my psyche. Have you ever done this before? I have done this many times:

I get the idea that I should make progress toward a goal.

I go read some motivational shit online.

I get excited for ten minutes.

I spend three hours reading posts about how to do better in life.

I wonder why the fuck everyone seems to know everyone in this motivational blogging business.

I criticize myself for being cynical.

I fantasize about giving motivational talks about how I changed my life and became financially independent through writing.

I write a few paragraphs about my goals in life, but they’re really about what happened today.

I stop and say, “Shit! I spent all day reading about how to write myself to financial independence and all I’ve written is some shit about sitting on a bench in the park and anyway all of these fuckers know each other and suck each other’s dicks.”

Then I feel terrible again because they seem like nice people who are happy to know other nice people.

One time i attacked this guy with a blog post. I had zero followers and commented on no one’s posts. It wasn’t that I didn’t think anyone would see it, but I just didn’t give it much thought at all I guess. He was striving to inspire people with his life goal of being a dentist and how he was going to reach it and he was the president of his class or something and always had something positive to say. And I went on his website after one of these motivational blog reading benders and he was just this nobody with a thousand followers or something who was just doing his best to inspire people and create positive change in the world and I just couldn’t believe this mother fucker had any readership because to me the shit was lame and terribly written. And I was like fuck it, I’m going to make my name tearing these motherfuckers down. It’s what I do best.

So I wrote a post about how fucking stupid his site was and no one saw it. And then an hour later my blog had 30 views, which was 30 + infinity times more than my average readership and this guy responded to my post that his life coach or something had told him he would have haters and that’s how he knew he was doing the right thing or some shit. Well, I felt pretty bad because the poor bastard was obviously a good person and making a more positive impact on the world than I was or am and I still hated that mother fucker for making cliches even more cliche than they already are and now the mother fucker had seen me say that I hated his ass all over the internet for no good reason. Just found this mother fucker out of nowhere. I still remember his name, the bastard, he’s probably the head dentist at We Fix African Kids’ Problems Dot Org. God damn it.

But yeah I wish that mother fucker well, I really do. He deserves to be happy, that fuck, because he is a nice person. I knew he was a nice person even when I was trashing his work. When he commented on my shit I hit him back and asked him how to do some technical shit on my blog because I knew he couldn’t resist telling me. Mother fucker wasn’t even mad, I knew he wouldn’t be.

At the same time, I was impressed by how many hits I had accumulated in like five seconds. That shit was a big deal to me then, and truthfully that shit is a big fucking deal to me now. Fucking hell, I get three hits in a day and I’m dancing on ceilings. And that’s how Chris Guillebeau drew me into the god damn inspiring ass manifesto reading tornado this time. He was talking about not letting your up and down days (in the stats) affect your mood so much and how he can’t help doing it even though he tries not to. And he was saying his self worth is interlaced with how much shit he gets done and he doesn’t know if that’s the right way to do life but that’s how he works so fuck it. And I thought that shit was useful as hell so I read all of his shit and he was even talking about this lame ass phone game he was playing that he got addicted to and how he thought about making life like that video game. It was some Clash of Clans type shit but the game consumed his life for a week and he had to uninstall it, just like me.

But god mother fucking dammit these mother fuckers are so close knit and I don’t know why that pisses me off. Of course they would be, they’re like minded people at the top of their profession. Ah fuck, I’m just full of darkness that I won’t let go of. That’s why I read all that shit they write, because I know it’s right and I should do it.

I was getting to the point I was thinking fuck it I’m going to use my real name and cut out the cursing so my parents won’t be scandalized and I’ll just be clean cut and write funny, inspiring shit and I won’t have to go wait tables any more. Sometimes I want people to cut the shit and just fucking tell people we’re all fuck ups, waiters and shit. It’s a fucking tragedy to see the personalities that get swallowed up in this profession. Some of us are only a couple steps down from Louis CK, the kind of comedic talent we got. Some of us are only a few steps down from Sartre with our philosophical meanderings and writing and shit. Some of us are great interpretive dancers but no one even knows the greats of that bastard art so they get fucked just like the rest of us ‘almosts.’ And there we all go looking stupid all night taking orders and bringing down the house with our cynical charm.

And then you have meetings. Mother fucking meetings before dinner starts and the lifers tell you they’ve been doing this a long time and it takes skill to do and it’s a worthwhile profession. They tell you that we’re creating peace around the world, that we’re a part of what’s right in the world. And they mean it, they’re not bullshitting, they feel that way and they want to make sure we’re not all going to jump off a bridge somewhere because we’re rich enough not to struggle and smart enough to know we shouldn’t be wasting our lives knowing the difference between a serviette and a napkin.

Yeah so I was thinking I’ll use my real identity. I’ll own up to some shit, and cover up the rest. I’ll tweet and connect and reach out. I’ll write a book and I’ll sell it and I’ll retire to Bedlam.

Fuck that. But I meant to end this on a positive note. Well, shit, I’ve still got half a bottle of Evan Williams and the wolves aren’t at my door yet.

Just Need 8 People to Look at This, Thanks

Ah sheeit tonight had a good night, and now about to go to bed and in six hours or so I will get up and go my ass to Cape Cod. GF and I are going there for just a couple days to chill and celebrate her graduating from culinary school. If the weather is nice, I’ve got a ring and I’m going to propose. Pretty nervous about doing that. I feel like I should do some hot air balloon count of Monte Cristo type shit but I’m just not really that kind of guy and despite all girls being into the big romantic gesture even though they say they’re not, well I guess maybe she’s really not, or anyway I just don’t want it to get cheesy, especially since we’ve been together for seven years. Anyway she really liked Jim and Pam from the office and how he proposed at the gas station in the rain, so maybe something weird will happen like that.

But anyway I didn’t start on here to talk about that. Truthfully I got on here to post something so that I would get a reasonable amount of views today and finish out the stat week strong. If I can get at least eight views today I can finish with an average of ten views this week, and that will make me feel more like a real success in life, or some bullshit, I really don’t understand how I put so much stock into getting ten views when a real blog gets a million or whatever, and when really what is a view, and why is that shit like an endorphin creator. But there you have it, I just wanted to post something so people will look at so I will have a ten view per day average for the week.

I have always liked numbers in a weird way, like stats and how many times I’ve played a song in my iTunes database. I don’t know.

Anyway at the bar tonight it was pretty fucking crazy, but me and my partner handled that shit and made some good money. The worst thing is that I made more this week than I ever have in a week, but I made less last week than I have in a long time, so my two week paycheck will look about even and not reflect that I had a kick ass week.

Oh well, fuck it. I need to watch The Cosmos again, or just plain Cosmos, whatever that Carl Sagan shit is. That’s some real shit. But anyway have a nice couple of days without me.

Sitting on the Stoop

I was reading through some of my old posts last night, before I went to bed, and then in bed I had this idea of a blog as a kind of front porch, or a stoop as some would say. It’s a place where I can sit down and just kick some old bullshit with whoever walks by.

And what more does a person need in life than a boiled potato, a sprinkle of salt, and somebody to kick some bullshit with? Maybe some music.

I started to think about what a person really needs in life to be happy and I think it’s really just some good food on an empty stomach with some music. You can be happy for at least five minutes with that, and if you’re happy five minutes a day, well you’re pretty lucky.

Thoreau, that old bastard, he got me thinking of this. Check this out:

I learned from my two years’ experience that it would cost incredibly little trouble to obtain one’s necessary food, even in this latitude; that a man may use as simple a diet as the animals, and yet retain health and strength. I have made a satisfactory dinner, satisfactory on several accounts, simply off a dish of purslane…which I gathered in my cornfield, boiled and salted… And pray what more can a reasonable man desire, in peaceful times, in ordinary noons, than a sufficient number of ears of green sweet corn boiled, with the addition of salt.

Yes, but even that old bastard wanted a bit of salt.

But seriously, that is real. I used to think, back when I had two or three jobs and was constantly working, that if I only had time for a shower at the end of the night, then I was living the high life. And God knows that’s true. Jesus Christ, that a mother fucker could stand under a spray of hot water, how fucked up is that? Mother fuckers can’t even drink water in this world and here I am just standing there. I’d work a whole week to take a hot shower. Ha, that’s funny to say, too, because poor bastards without hot water work their whole lives and never have a hot shower.

But anyway, back to the analogy of the stoop. I was getting pretty down as I always do about what the fuck am I doing with my life and so on, and on top of that having zero-view days, I don’t know. Shit was fucking me up. But then I thought last night, well, if it’s like a stoop, what does it matter if one good friend comes by or a thousand strangers walk by? One doesn’t go out on the front porch with an appointment. You don’t call a bunch of your friends up to go sit on the porch. If you call people up you go sit in the backyard. So you sit your ass on the porch to watch the world go by, and if someone happens to have the time, they might sit down, too. And maybe somebody will make some sun tea.

Thoughts Upon Waking Up (Not Deep)

Just got out of bed it’s about ten AM over here on the East Coast and I straight took off work today out of nowhere. It was probably imprudent of me to tell GF this since all she wants is a day off, having just graduated culinary school, but instead she has been scheduled for every day this week at her job that she worked part time while in school. I just realized this as I woke up from a luxurious sleep. She was good not to say anything about it this morning, she left nicely aside from the usual turning on and off of the lights, and that wasn’t so bad because she used the little light. So that was nice of her. But anyway the point is that I have the whole day off. And the more startling thing is that I have tomorrow off, too, except that I have to go in and “deep clean” at 2:00, which was abruptly decided yesterday around 2 PM.

Ah shit I’ll never have the blog of my dreams, the mad views, if I just write like this all the time, just write whatever comes into my head and call that the end of the day. Last night I dreamt that I had a surge of viewers all the sudden, and they were all swelling on this one post and then they were moving onto other posts and it just came out of nowhere after I wrote about an old person in my family dying of Alzheimer’s. And somehow the stat tracking was so crazy I just threw it over trees and draped it around and stuff. I don’t know, that was crazy. Then I dreamed that my chess playing cousin (who doesn’t play chess and no one in the family does but in the dream we all did) was hit by a car and died. He was arguing with his siblings about the way he should drive when he pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the car and was immediately run over. Bad way to watch someone go, right after an argument. Cars are deadly. Kurt Vonnegut in Man Without a Country says:

Our government is conducting a war against drugs, is it? Let them go after petroleum. Talk about a destructive high! You put some of this stuff in your car and you can go a hundred miles an hour, run over the neighbor’s dog, and tear the atmosphere to smithereens.

The Dead Weather in Cut Like a Buffalo says:

You can hit me if you have to

Whatever makes you happy

You should try to take it easy on me

Cuz I don’t know how to take it

Hoo shit my computer froze up right there thought I was going to lose what I wrote so far. That wouldn’t be such a tragedy I guess it only took me about ten minutes to write all that.

I’m trying to think of what I should do today. I think I should do something like an adult. I should go to the motherfucking bank like an adult! I can’t be funny today so I’m just using other people. Maybe I’ll get some coffee and try again. The coffee at work just tastes like shit and gives me a bad feeling. It’s weird because I don’t really believe that’s true, because I know it’s all just coffee, but every time I drink it I don’t feel good.

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.

Instant Gratification

I want a whiskey and ginger right now but instead I had some of the really old white wine lying in the fridge. It tastes like vinegar but whatever. Then I ate some corned beef and fried rice and a fried egg on top. That shit is banging. It’s something that GF’s mom makes and now we make it sometimes. Hoo damn it’s good.

My friend said that I am just looking for instant gratification and I won’t get that with creating art. That’s why it feels good to just accomplish little shit. Because you start it and three hours later look at all this shit you did! Yeah but writing something worthwhile takes time and no one can see it in the middle. That’s why I’m always thinking of writing a novel or some shit on a blog so people can be like wow look at your progress that’s awesome! every five minutes. That’s why I really like blogging. You just throw up whatever you’re feeling and bam someone likes it.

That’s why I like drinking, too. GF put on “Genie in a Bottle” by Christina Aguilera. That shit is hot I don’t care what anybody says.

But yeah I’m going to spend more time trying to create some fiction shit that takes a long time. Fuck it.

Whiskey and Ginger

Suddenly I feel like an old woman. I listen to the clock ticking, like it used to do at my grandmother’s house when the TV wasn’t on any more and there was nothing left to say. It’s late at night. We are going to sleep soon and things have been done well today.  Things have been checked off the list. I achieved a kind of high. It didn’t last all day, but anyway the day went pretty well. Just because I can’t write anything worth writing right now doesn’t mean that the day has been a failure, and after all I am very comfortable and clean and warm underneath this blanket, even if I didn’t really need dessert.

GF and I are on the couch with the blanket over our legs and she is reading Saveur magazine. She just dropped it so I guess she has gone to sleep. I’m there on the verge, too. I was trying to write a story something like a PG Wodehouse story with characters from small town America, but not the small towns there used to be, like Mayberry, but rather like small towns are now, where people hang out at Wal-Mart.

But then suddenly I felt tired and old and like an old woman and the clock was ticking and I just stared at my dining room table and thought fuck it. The world is a crazy place. Especially because at work all they do is play “A Boy Named Sue” every day and “Mad World.” Who can eat anything when that song is playing?

I had a whiskey and ginger today when we came home from grocery shopping. I felt like an old white man then, and it felt pretty good.

I don’t know what I had in mind when I started writing on here again tonight. I thought I felt like writing, once again, but I get on here and just freeze up. The floorboards creak whenever the heater stops clicking. Once in a while a car goes by outside. I remember I used to sleep sometimes in my sister’s room when we were young, and car seemed to pass more often in there. Now that I’m listening it sounds like a lot of cars are going by out there. And maybe it’s raining, too. We cleaned the apartment from about 8:30 to 9:30. We vacuumed and dusted and I put tape all over the rugs and lifted it up again to get all of GF’s hair out of it. I forget how I thought of that method, but it really works much better than my cheap Dirt Devil from 1989 or some foul year of our Lord. There’s half a glass of milk on the table. I started to drink a lot of it and I remembered my stomach last night. And after all I didn’t stop early enough. GF tore up a mango and pulpy shards of it stick out from the core where she ate around it. I had two different kinds of desserts that she made in school today. She brought out Saveur and a book about cheese because she hasn’t been able to read anything about food since she started school. But she didn’t get far today before she turned to her iPhone and looked up some restaurants. She decided we should try Hot Pot.

My eyes are getting heavier and heavier. Everything is monochromatic. Greys and whites and blacks. Even the green of the potted plants takes on some of the gray. The lamps are silver with orange gray shades and so the light has a silver tone. And GF is wearing a yellow hoodie that barely peaks out of the white and black floral printed quilt. The mango pops out, too, in a wholly unappetizing manner. And then there are the cold blue lights of the modem underneath of the empty entertainment center. The clock is gray, the doors are white, the kitchen is bathed in black.

It’s definitely raining out there now. The weather reports had it raining and snowing today, or at least that’s what I’d heard, I never look at weather reports. And it was sunny and nice all day. And then as it began to get dark around 7 or 8, something like that, it started to get cold and windy and I knew this would happen. Long as it doesn’t snow. I need to actually make money at work. Last week it snowed right before my Tuesday, too. And besides that I don’t feel like riding my bike in the snow now.

The upstairs neighbors were playing Yeah Yeah Yeahs really loud today, and not the regular stuff but some extra bassy remixes. Then they got delivery like they always do. The strangest thing happened yesterday. Thepeople downstiars were having a super kick ass party with dancing and loud karaoke and everything, right in the middle of the day. GF was not happy at all. She likes her Sundays quiet. So I had to go talk to them for the first time since they moved in a month or so ago. And the amazing thing was that after I talked to them, the party disbanded. Within an hour, all was quiet. Silent night.

We’ve got to start looking for another apartment soon. We should’ve been looking already. Apartments around here go in September but they’re sold around this time. It’s a real bitch because we hardly just moved in here.

Anyway. I was thinking I was going to do some kind of writing, I don’t know what. It’s back to the grindstone tomorrow. And anyway that’s good. Got to make money for the Eurotrip.

Three Hours of Buzzfeed

Oh yes. Three hours. Straight. Unintended. Just sat down to GF’s computer to write and there was a tab open to Buzzfeed.com. I just had to read this list. Then that list and another fucking list for three fucking hours! Shit!

I did read some interesting articles. On from Esquire all about Ashton Kutcher. And another in The Atlantic all about rich girls and their husbands. And no matter how funny my writing is I’ll probably never laugh at it like I did when I saw this.

And that’s a real bitch. How am I going to be out here trying to be entertaining when there are websites like Buzzfeed everywhere, and The Atlantic and Esquire are posting their articles for free?

Damn it. We’re all writers now. There isn’t just a pile of books somewhere out there that we wish we had all the time in the world to read. Now there’s a whole damn internet that one day of could take us a hundred years to read. And that’s if there wasn’t any dishes to wash in between articles.

Of course we just have to remember that we can’t do everything. To just enjoy the things that we do. Well, shit. It’s easy to forget that. It’s easy to get caught in the maelstrom of interesting things. The whole world is the Party of Special Things to Do.

But I’ve been sitting in this chair for three hours and that’s proven to cause all kinds of shit that’s related to early death and permanent discomfort.

And the longer I sit the harder it is to get up. And the more the confusion and cloudiness returns. I have all kinds of stuff to eat in the fridge, but it’s so far away from this chair and my portal, my rectangle full of the whole god damn world.

So much entertainment can be got for free. You don’t even have to pay for internet. You could just go to the library where you’re surrounded by a universe of information that you’ll never make a dent in. Son of a bitch it all feels like so much nothing.

Live for yourself

You will die in vain

Live for others

You will live again

But this is one twisted kingdom of Jah, so who knows if we can even trust that. Damn it.

Pay no mind, it’s only me feeling like a frenetic jumble of synapses all melting slowly into an oversized overstuffed recliner.

A List of Things I Did This Morning

Last night I had a couple drinks and rode home. So when I got up this morning, about three hours after I had gone to bed, to say goodbye to GF, I was sure I was going to be a little hungover. I had drank two glasses of water before going to bed, and that turned to be both good and bad. Good because I was only a little hungover. Bad because I woke up like four times to go to the bathroom. And usually if I have to go I just hold it while I’m sleeping. I’m like a camel. But this shit was intense every single time I just couldn’t hold it. So that was my night.

Then I woke up and it’s supposed to be another Snowpacalypse out here in Boston. So GF wanted me to get some bread from the convenience store. So I got up with a mission at around 9:00, putting my sleep hours at about seven. Put on the same clothes I had on yesterday and said, “Fuck it. I’m going to Trader Joe’s.”

I pulled the bike out of the basement where I had put it last night for safe-keeping, out of the splash zone. Put on my REI facemask and put on my new, ridiculous looking forty-five dollar helmet and hopped right the fuck outside.

I didn’t eat breakfast or nothing, which on hangover days is usually bad news. I just rode, man, thinking God damn if this isn’t the greatest thing since blogging. Just fucking going over the river to TJ’s in a snow storm without having to look at bus schedules or anything. Of course, it’s just my luck that a fucking 64 bus was leaving at the same time as I was.

But no matter. I was doing it for more than convenience. I gotta say once I hopped on that bike I felt like a 98 pound weakling. I don’t use those thigh muscles like that. Hills are killer. But anyway I made it.

Rolled up in Trader Joe’s just as happy as a lark. Shit was a madhouse. But they still had bread! Couldn’t believe it. Got some other shit and stood in line, listening to this mom and her kids and they were all pushing up against me in line and shit. Then the dude, I paid him in ones and he said, “I hope this isn’t stripper money.” Well shit, what if it was. He’d feel like a fool. So I told him it was. Then I said just kidding I’m a bartender. But he didn’t give a damn either way I guess.

Oh on the way there I gave a homeless man a dollar and I never do that, mostly because I can’t afford to give any money away. But I just happened to have a lot of ones so I hopped off the bike and chased him down and gave him a dollar and he was super cool about it. I felt good about that.

And while I was at Trader Joe’s, and I guess all last night and to that homeless dude too I was calling everyone “brother.” I thought it might get annoying, but when I say it I feel connected to them. I haven’t called anyone sister yet, so I don’t know how that will go. But people seem to be taking it well, they seem to like it.

And then I jumped on the bike and ran into a trash can. Knocked the whole shit right over, banged up my knee, right in a crowded parking lot. Well no one gave a shit about it, didn’t laugh or even look at me, and I gaurantee you that shit was funny looking. It was a huge empty trash can and it clanged and fell into three pieces. So I guess people were just worried about Snowmageddon.

Yeah they closed my restaurant down today because nobody would show anyway. It’s great in one way but it sucks to lose that money.

Well I rode back real leisurely as I couldn’t really muster any more effort than that. And I cruised on home and rolled up in this bitch feeling fine. It was a bitch getting the bike back downstairs but whatever.

I ate some banana bread and called Wells Fargo and closed my account, finally! The damn thing keeps getting overdrafted so I can’t close it but finally I caught it at a zero balance. And then I made a big payment to my student loan so they’ll shut up for a while. And I kept a little money for myself! Which I never do, but I think I’ll bank some of it. Start “paying myself first” like you read in all those Robert Kawasaki books. Is that his name? Shit I forget.

It’s Kiyosaki apparently, I just had to look it up and thus broke one of my rules but now it’s pretty funny that I said Kawasaki.

And then I got on here and started reading some blog posts. And then I started watching NBA dunk contests because someone was talking about Spud Webb.

But I have a lot I want to write about and time is dwindling. I was thinking I might start a whole blog about biking, too, but I guess I’m starting to spread myself thin.

Alright I’m going to eat some lunch and make some coffee and see what’s what.