Clean Something, Clean Anything

It was the strangest thing, after I got done writing that last post I read three articles about hating on white people and stuff like that, and then I went inside and started washing dishes. Then I did that cleaning project I wanted to do: take shit from under my bed and dust it off and sweep under there and shit like that. I told…what was my wife’s name again? Molly. I told Molly I would do it sometime soon yesterday. So I did it today. Why not?

Anyway I had no intention of doing that shit when I was sitting out there on the balcony. I figured, fuck it, I’ll just write a bunch of shit down. Fuck this day. Waste it.

It was either the coffee or the writing that gave me the energy to start cleaning shit up. Or it was because I went into the living room and Morgan was there talking on the phone and I was going to say something to him but I figured I might as well do the dishes first while he was on the phone and once I started actually moving my life from disorder to order in that way, I had the strength to move forward onto bigger projects.

After I cleaned under my bed and shit, the apartment felt pretty good, less dusty anwyay. I heated up some quiche and I went back out to the balcony. Morgan and I sat there just staring out into the day. It is really nice outside right now. It’s too much too fast though. I miss the spring. It was spring yesterday, but today it will be summer. Who knows if we’ll ever go back to spring because last week it was pretty much late winter.

But we’re always romanticizing something that probably isn’t real. Like the idyllic part of our childhood before we became self-conscious, and other shit like that.

Now I’m laying on the bed, typing more shit. It’s about time to go to work. I guess I have to get dressed and set up the feeders for the cats. What else? I guess that’s really it, although I should start work on Molly’s website, or else apply for a job, and I really should get back on my exercise program before I lose all the gains I was seeing, at least I should do the sit-ups. 

I don’t know if I’ll do any of that. I might just lay here and fall asleep. Fuck it. I have a weird life. Morgan asked me if I would ever get a tattoo. I said I didn’t know. When I was 16, I wanted flames going up my arms from my wrists like the lead singer of Linkin Park. He said that would have been ok. I said yeah but everyone would know that I had gotten that tattoo in the 90’s. 

I thought about it and I probably wouldn’t get a tattoo because who has the time or the money to do something like that. It would be cool to have a tattoo, but the way I live I probably wouldn’t get around to planning something like that. According to my value system it’s frivolous. I try to only do things that aren’t frivolous, at least that’s what I tell myself. And then I sit around on balconies staring off into nothing.

But some people just go around doing things that they want to do. They go to work and they work and then they come home and just do things. But I can’t even think of things that I want to do when I really think about it. Like Molly asked me yesterday, what do you want to do? And I tried to think of an honest answer because most of the time I would never assert myself about some shit like that because I just go along with whatever she wants to do and I couldn’t think of an answer. Besides have sex. Sex and eating, that’s all I do. I like drinking, too, but I like that less and less as it hurts more the next day or the night of, even, when I drink just enough to feel good but not enough to knock me out. I know there are things I want to do, I think, I never thought it was just going somewhere and eating, but maybe it is.

I mean sure I want to go hang out with the girl I was formerly obsessed with, but I don’t even know what I want to do with her, just go dancing I guess or sit on a bed talking, basically anything that seems like it’s leading to sex. Or eating.

But I also like just sitting and talking with people. I like talking with people, especially the girl I was formerly obsessed with. I like playing basketball, too, and writing down dumb shit. I like learning shit, I think I do. Sometimes I even like cleaning, but I don’t know if it’s just because I feel like if I’m cleaning, I’m safe from my inner critic, the one that tells me whatever I’m doing isn’t right, that it would be better if I did something else entirely. And then I do that and it’s the same thing. It’s always something I can’t even do, really, or won’t do, because I’m scared. I should just go around doing things I’m scared of, I guess, is the lesson. I don’t know.

Fuck it, I think I’ll go to sleep.

Two Blog Posts in a Row

I’m going back to work today. Shit I just wrote a post and deleted it. Got to get back to the old days of just writing some shit down. Stop deleting shit. Traffic out on the street is a bitch. I guess everybody is leaving for Labor Day, but the sky is gray out there and it’s hot. I got my Birkenstocks yesterday and wore them around town and my feet hurt like a motherfucker. That new leather just dug into the tops of my feets. God damn that shit was rough.

I went to this bar that newly opened up like two blocks from my house. I’ve never lived this close to a really cool bar. I didn’t realize it was cash only though, so I couldn’t get a cocktail or deviled eggs because I only had sixteen dollars.

I’m listening to Bob Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde. I usually listen to just the Stuck Inside of Memphis or whatever because Hunter Thompson refers to that song in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, but this is the first time that I’m listening to the album from start to finish.

My morning routine is getting really set. I mean I wake up and do the same shit for the first hour of every day. I don’t mind it, it’s really preferable because it sets up the rest of my day really well. Basically I keep adding shit that makes my wife’s life easier right from the jump, so then the rest of the day I don’t have to go out of my way to get anything done, not only because the perception is that I’ve done more than I have but also because I actually have gotten a lot of shit done. I water the plants, make the bed, do yoga with her, fill the water filter in the fridge, clear the dishrack, do the dishes, make the coffee, make the toast, put out the condiments, clean out the cat shit since her sister isn’t here to do it, take the trash downstairs, fill up her water bottle and put it in the fridge, eat breakfast with her, then clean up and wash the dishes and then it’s only 10:30 and I can just chill until work.

But can I though? I don’t know, there’s always some lingering shit that has to get done around here, I feel like, and should I be studying up on wine and the restaurant menu and shit? I don’t know! Fuck it.

Plus what the fuck, I was taking a multi vitamin every day for like two weeks and now it’s been five days and I also did not go to the gym at all this week. Everybody’s got their own life I guess fuck it.