Blood Above

The more you search for something elusive the more elusive the something becomes, the more frustratation takes a hold. You’ve nothing to say after two weeks, you’ve nothing more to say after a couple of drinks. No one cares. You were fun, you were fun, and now you’re not.

I remember a table with books on it and a couple of flowers outside of vases, you knew they’d die soon anyway. You didn’t like flowers because they died, you didn’t like pets, you didn’t like drinking because of hangovers. You thought of the end constantly.

The more you thought about it the more you thought about it. The more you thought about it, then you’d think about it again. You had no discipline. It was no wonder what happened. It was no wonder. You’d think about anything. I told you what to think about, but you would think about anything else.

I remember a shadow growing where there should have been light. We were amazed and our friends laughed. The man on stage called it science but later I dreamt of a black horse and I never do that. I never dream of horses. I remember your sister had a horse. Where is she now? Gone with the rest of the wild ones, I guess. I can’t remember whatever happened.

I remember some things, though, I really do, I know you were there. I hope you come back. I hope you don’t come back. I don’t know why I thought about you so much. I’m done thinking about it, really, I am. The more I think about it, the more I look for you, I know, I lied, I do.

I do that.

What about that time, with the coffeemaker, that one from France? I remember the lady telling me that I needed one. She was bold. She was so bold, that lady, some people are like that and make an impression. But I don’t care anything for that lady and her boldness, not a bit, and so I think about her often.

The more you search for something elusive the more you search and the more I look for that old lady in people passing by.  She’s easier to spot than you. I’ll never see you if I can help it. 

Sometimes I can’t.

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Can you do…NO! NO I CAN’T!

When people question me about my work, I am very defensive.

In life, I am usually mellow, albeit moody. I can usually put on a tranquil front at least. Usually I can do some deep breathing. I can feel the tightness of my shoes on my feet and remain in the present moment.

But when someone says, why does this character do that? Or, why doesn’t this ebook work on my phone? Or, how can I print this ebook out in a different way? Then I suddenly tense up and get super annoyed and answer quickly and defensively.

What I’m going to do about that? I don’t know. Shit’s annoying as hell.

I been drinking black coffee. Not today! I’m through with all that; there’s more to living than not dying.

I think there was a drug in the Franzen novel Freedom called Mexico that made people feel zero guilt. Am I remembering that right? I would take that drug! At least once in a while.

Guilt guilt guilt!

Anyways. Like I said before, discomfort = good! No drinking today! Dealing with the guilt head on, hand to hand, face to face, dick to dick and pussy to pussy.

Pachow! Don’t ask me any questions about the way I formatted this post. I will karate chop a nearby object or organism.

Columbus Day in New Amsterdam

Man I am about to get right up out of this chair and make some coffee. It’s going to be the shit.

Like, what I’m saying, I’m going to get up, like physically, alright? Can you grasp that?

I mean I am literally seconds away from moving out of this chair, alright?

No, I don’t think you understand. You’re not quite getting it.

That’s alright though, because in, like, five seconds I think…five seconds probably my ass is going to be up out of this chair. I’m going to be turning right the fuck around and going into the kitchen and I’m going to make coffee.

See I already know that Sister left the coffee beans right next to the record player. I don’t know why in fuck she did that, because the coffee beans clearly are not musical. You can’t even eat coffee beans while listening to records. Coffee beans have no acoustic qualities.

I’m going to grab that nasty ass can of Trader Joe’s fair trade bullshit whole bean coffee beans and I’m going to pop that lid and be like, hell yeah, I did my part for the liberation of Equaraguistan today.

Then I’m going to grind that shit up in a burr grinder, mother fucker. Do you know what the fuck that shit is even going to do to those coffee beans? It’s going to fuck them shits up like it was Columbus Day in New Amsterdam.

Then I’m going to take that shit and put it in a filter, a paper filter made by a company that had the audacity to name themselves “If You Care.” Mother fucker, I don’t care! That’s why I use paper coffee filters, bitch! I cut down trees in this mother fucker and I make myself a delicious drink. Fuck you, you band aid ass mother fuckers.

And then I’m going to heat up some water by doing absolutely nothing. I’m literally going to stand there and watch water heat up. Like I’m fucking Merlin up in here. Mother fuckers ain’t even going to be able to handle that shit. It’s just going to be like aodsifjapidshfpwerpoafie asdf fuck it’s hot in here! Damn! That’s what the water’s going to say.

Then I’m going to pour that shit right over the fucked up coffee. I mean that coffee is so fucked up, it can’t even remember it was a plant. It can’t even remember it was in a non-recyclable can processed by We Could Give a Shit, But We Don’t, Incorporated…PS Fair Trade.

And then after all that shit I’m just going to straight chef that coffee up. I’m going to add some fucked up pale gold sugar from some fucked up nation and some old cream that I have nothing even to say about it. And I’m going to stir that shit…I mean I am going to stir that shit beyond all fucking reason. There’s going to be no reason to stir, is what I’m trying to tell you. By the time I’m done stirring it may well be mother fucking Christmas.

And then I’m going to have made coffee, bitches.

I still don’t think you understand.

I really am. I’m going to make that shit, god damn it.

No for real, I’m about to get up. Seriously, ya’ll, just wait, this shit is happening.

Right…in a minute.

Half Ass Post About Walden

I’m thinking truly nothing today, so I’m going to have to defer to some more Walden up in here. I was reading that some people think Thoreau was a buffoon with stupid ideas. Well I guess people think that about everyone. At least Robert Frost liked him. I don’t know anything about him except this book and what I wrote in my first post. But the book seems worthwhile to me.

There has been a lot of talk about sitting on pumpkins and well, nothing bad can come of that.

I guess I left off on “It is never to late to give up our prejudices.” Well, that’s a comforting thought. Most of the time I think I don’t have a choice in life. He writes “…it appears as if men had deliberately chosen the common mode of living because they preferred it to any other. Yet they honestly think there is no choice left.” That’s worth thinking about.

“What old people say you cannot do, you try and find that you can.” Thoreau apparently has this thing about old people not being necessarily wise. If he stopped there I would agree that being old is not a sufficient condition for wisdom. But he also thinks that people know more about life when they are younger, and forget and become set in their ways as they get older. I don’t know how I feel about that. I can see it, especially in the Picasso sense of every child being an artist. But old people usually know what’s up. I guess they just collect a lot of prejudices and that can be a problem.

It’s funny that he wrote this like two hundred years ago and he talks about fuel in the same way that Kurt Vonnegut does in Man Without a Country. He writes “…people put a little dry wood under a pot, and are whirled around the globe with the speed of birds, in a way to kill old people…”

Which is like Vonnegut’s quote that I’ve quoted probably twice here before, about gasoline, “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.”

So that’s a funny parallel.

Well. Shit I’m not feeling very enthusiastic right now, even with this coffee. It’s almost time to go to work. I’ve been drinking a lot of coffee the last few days and it just hasn’t been doing me any good. It’s like the first time I drink a lot of it after not drinking any for a few days, that’s awesome. But then I’m like, man I’ve got to keep doing this, this is great! And then it just gets worse and worse and I just get all nervous and shit. Anxious and not even very awake. And my eyes start tearing up. I don’t know, shit’s weird.

But anyway, I’m trying to post every day just to keep in practice. Tomorrow I’m going to a Cinco de Mayo brunch and I’m bringing a lot of tequila and limes so I don’t know if I will post.

The First Paragraph of This Post is Mildly Interesting

What am I thinking about today? The tyranny of time and how to usurp the throne. Perhaps just get rid of all the clocks in the house. If only I didn’t have a job I could just do things whenever I wanted. Or perhaps have one clock with tape over the face of it set to the time that I need to go to work. Is there a way to get rid of the clock on the computer though? I don’t know, but I could set it to the wrong time. No I’d figure out the difference in time soon enough. Maybe just put a piece of tape over that part of the screen.

I’m always worried about how much time is passing and if I’m doing the right thing. If I could just forget about time I could do whatever I want without feeling guilty or whatever.

I was thinking about that for a while. Last night I got pretty drunk and spent some money to celebrate GF’s graduation. Last night I did not sleep well, or rather this morning I didn’t. I guess I went to bed at 2:30 and didn’t wake up at all until 8 or something and then I was in and out and uncomfortable and had really stupid dreams, like one where I was just searching in my bag for my shoes and I just couldn’t find them for what seemed like hours. And then another one with these weird fashionistas riding enormous unicycles down the street and smiling down into our cars and asking if we liked their clothes in a somehow menacing manner.

There are people everywhere sawing shit up and scrubbing shit down and making spring improvements so the street is filled with noise. It’s perfect out there except for that.

We saw these girls in a Volvo convertible waving to everyone and reveling in their lives and saying “Wooo!!!!” They were really annoying.

I want to read more novels.

I feel bad for staying inside when it’s nice out. Up to this point I have spent all day outside though. I got some iced coffee and a sandwich at Cutty’s. Then we ate them in the common.

Now I’m trying to think of something to think about.

I also dreamed that my brother worked at the 7-11.

I Just Wanna Say This

Well, spring is the mischief in me and in the world so it seems. That is all.

There are so many colors outside now. And the whole week is supposed to be nice, nice, very nice. Yesterday was cold and wet and I took the bus to work instead of riding the bike. Big mistake there. The bus was late getting here and then I ended up taking a cab back from work because the next bus was in 96 minutes. 96 minutes. How does that even work?

That reminds me of a newish thing I hate. It’s funny that I hate it because people say it when they hate or don’t understand something. I hate when people say, “Really? REALLY?” Everyone is at it now. It makes me want to say, “Really?” to them for saying “really.”

The bus situation would have been a perfect occasion for me to say “Really?” And that’s why I thought of the fact that I hate when people say that. Recently Leo from Zen Habits wrote a post about anger stemming from selfishness. Like if you get mad at someone for doing something then you’re just imposing your expectations on a world that obviously doesn’t conform to your expectations even half of the time. In light of that of course I’m just being childish when I expect the bus to come more than once every god damn hour and a half.

Yesterday when I got to work I was like, “Shit man I left my house at 9:30 and just got here at 10:30.” And this new dude at work says, “Well I left my house at 8:30.” Well I’m like shit why do you live so god damn far away? Because this mother fucker drives to work. I’m like damn man you practically decimated the ozone on your way into work every morning. Haha but of course we’re all at work on that one, or maybe it’s a conspiracy. But anyway, I guess you could counter by saying well shit the economy is such a bitch that people have to drive two hours to get a restaurant job! To which I’d say bullshit. The economy is depressed as Eeyore out this mother fucker that’s true, but restaurant jobs are everywhere. But maybe I’m lying to everyone. It did take me a while to find this one. And the general manager drives down from New Hampshire every day. I really don’t think it’s necessary but I could be wrong. Anyway if I had to drive two hours to get to the nearest job, you know what I’d do? I’d fucking move! AKA if I didn’t have any money I’d sleep in the employee bathroom. Fuck driving two hours to work every day.

Yeah but anyway. What the hell was I talking about in this bee-itch. Oh well it’s pretty obvious to certain readers that I have had a lot of coffee today. I try to get down on coffee, like I try not to drink it. I don’t know why, I hear bad things about it and I have a fear of addiction. And GF is definitely addicted. Not crazy addicted but she needs to have it every morning. So just a normal American. But to me that’s scary. I am not reinforced by that. I read a blog post somewhere about how coffee works, some blog about keeping your health or something…shit how did I even find that blog? But anyway it just blocks the chemical that triggers your body to go to sleep from getting into your brain somewhere, so in essence it doesn’t do anything for you, or that’s what the post was trying to posit. And I agree with that from a purely materialistic standpoint. And I usually try to think of things in purely materialistic terms. I have been thinking of cutting that shit out…materialistic thinking that is…but I’ll talk about that later maybe.

But anyway, when I drink too much coffee I feel really great for a little while. Maybe I do crash later and that’s why I am afraid to drink to much of it. But you know what I do when I don’t drink coffee? I crash the whole day. Ok no I don’t crash all day. I just stay at the same level all day. Maybe I’m bi-polar.

Here I found that blog post about caffeine.

Hey while we’re talking about other people’s blogs, here’s a reference:

Q: What do you say to somebody you just murdered for talking to much?

A: Well you’re DEAD now. So SHUT UP.

Oh good Christ that is some funny shit right there.

Hoo damn well it’s nice as a bitch outside and I am sitting in here like a mad man. I was rereading Kurt Vonnegut’s Man Without a Country. It gave me so much joy to read it. I feel everything that he says. The world is so fucked so let’s all laugh and dance, he says, and you can really get behind it because he is a very kind person and he never says fuck or shit and he’s smart and old and wise, even though he’s DEAD now.

Ah but it made me think maybe I should just stop reading new books and just reread the ones I’ve already read that were really good. I think that would be a satisfactory way of avoiding the feeling that I’m missing out on everything.

I’m listening to Charlie Parker now because I read most of Blues People about three times but I still haven’t gotten all the way to the very end. I’m like ten pages away and I put it down to read something exciting I saw at the library. And I’ve got this damn book from the library that will probably make it impossible for me to take new books out since I’ve had it for like three weeks past the due date. I always do that. I don’t see any reason for making a special trip to the library and I haven’t been by there so the book just won’t get returned I guess. But there’s a part of the book where he quotes from an earlier book of his, Cat’s Cradle and he says something like “There was a lot of suffering and misery so I made up lies so that everything would seem to have meaning and everyone could live in peace and happiness.” Something like that. And of course that’s the fake guru Bokonon saying that about Bokononism, which I’ve talked about before.And anyway it’s making me rethink materialism. If I could just convince myself of the lies maybe I could also feel fulfilled.

Well I could go on about whatever now. But I guess I’ll keep this to a somewhat readable length.

Boring Post

Ah shit. Bad sleep last night. GF had to be up early to go to work. Like six AM. I woke up and saw ZzzQuil on the dresser next to the bed. Hope I didn’t keep her up with mad ravings and coughs and snorting sounds. I am a little sick.

Yesterday before work I had an iced coffee with a shot in it. That was a good idea, even though it seemed like a bad idea when I did it. Sometimes it hits me right and sometimes wrong. It was wrong the last three times before yesterday.

We had some interesting people last night. All different tabs and this lady was scared to leave her credit card with us.

Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

If I could put a notion in his head:

Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it

Where there are cows? But here there are no cows…”

Yeah I been trying to memorize this poem for almost six months now. It’s pretty crazy because I don’t really know any other poems by heart. I guess in the old days people didn’t have much else to do but memorize poems. And anyway I guess I do know a lot of song lyrics.

I just saw a bird out the window that I’ve never seen before. Just a little one but it was all black and white. It’s gray outside again. It was bright when I woke up.

Feeling Sorry for Myself

I’m in a weird place now. I didn’t want to start writing a post because I knew that when I did, time would start passing faster, and it’s almost time for me to leave for work. The new AirBnB guest is supposed to be here about the same time I have to leave for work, too. So I’m not really looking forward to either one of those activities, as usual, even though I don’t know what I’m doing that’s any better than that.

Last night I thought sure I was going to wake up and write something. I got everything in order and sat down to the computer at 10:30. By the time it was 11:30 I had opened up my word processor and I was ready to go. By 12:30 I had written two terrible paragraphs about nothing. So I got up and ate.

I’ve said before that the only times I feel good at home sometimes is when I’m eating something. More instant gratification. I did study for the LSAT for 30 minutes and that felt fine. Didn’t want to do it at first but it became fun by the end. Then I read some of Paul Krugman’s End This Depression Now! It’s interesting and I had to stop reading it because I knew time was really going to fly if I got too into it.

And it’s cold as a bitch in this whole house again. I figured I hadn’t turned on the heat up to whatever point it was, so no reason to do it now, with only so much time to go. So now I’m sitting at the desk with my jacket and my shoes and my hat on all ready to walk right out the door. I’ve been like this since more than an hour before I actually have to leave. I don’t know why. I guess I’m scared that I’ll get caught up in something and then won’t have time to get ready to leave or something. I’ll really be screwed if that dude shows up early.

Maybe I’m trying to force myself to write too much and I’m not really having much fun with it. So many things I have to do, or think I have to do, I don’t give myself any time to just not do anything, I guess. I don’t know. Same shit all the time. Maybe I’ll try to memorize some poetry while I’m at work or something. I don’t know. Count to ten in French a bunch. That should be helpful.

There where it is we don’t need the wall:

He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

My apple trees will never get across

And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

This morning it was bright outside. I had to take my jacket off as we walked to the train in the sun. The birds were chirping as I sat down to my computer in my house made gray by the curtains and the upholstery. And now I’ve moved to the office, with windows all around, and it’s gray outside now, too. And my feet are cold inside my shoes, still soaked with last night’s sweat.

I guess I’ll never talk to my best friend who went off to the Army again. We aren’t the kind of people who can be friends into true adulthood. My great Aunt died and my dad texted me: “Don’t know if you heard but Aunt Annie passed away. Looking forward to seeing you this weekend!” Weird. Last night I had a dream that I was drunk at my parents house and I wrote some kind of journal thing and saved it on a 3.5 inch floppy disk and my mom found it the next morning and was really upset as I helped her unload the groceries from her car. And I had stolen her bag of Domino sugar and cocaine had something to do with that.

Tomorrow I am working a double so that my coworker will cover my shift on Saturday so I can take a bus to Long Island and meet my mother there, and then she’ll drive us back to Delaware. I’ll be there until Tuesday.

I’ve been wanting to get drunk all day, or at least just have one whiskey and ginger, but I keep putting it off for good reasons, just like the heat. We are having wine class before work today, so maybe I can get enough, but no I already know how that story goes. And yesterday I drank a lot of coffee but it was either too much or not enough because it was not making me feel good. I wish I had a flask but I know I’ll never do that. I’m sure they would notice I was drunk by how happy I would be.

We are set to make 500 dollars from AirBnB for the month of May. So far no one has noticed anything and we’ve had four or five sets of guests come. We have a pretty full April, too. I guess we’ve made about 350 dollars including this guy coming today for March. So that’s good. We are going to need a lot of money for our Eurotrip. GF keeps thinking we should stay for longer. I don’t know, shit, people do it but they are rich or have no debts I don’t know. Damn sure can’t throw it all on the 3,000 dollar credit card I have with an interest rate of 22 percent and already 2,000 dollars used up on that bitch!

I guess I’m about the laziest person I know, in a way. I don’t know how to live without instant gratification all the time. I don’t know how to live with a bad feeling in my heart. I don’t know how to struggle through a day gracefully. I don’t know how everyone shows up to work and acts like they do.

For a while there, it seemed like I had some perspective. I was reading the news and history and seeing myself as part of a bigger picture, instead of just self-analyzing and obsessing with myself and all that. How can I get that back? Guess I should read the news and history again.

Ah well. There goes a half an hour. Better spent than the three hours before it anyway.

Another Strange Day Off

Well shit here we are again drinking the blood of the earth and wondering whether or not the entire fourth division of the Santa Barbara Mockingbird Saints will come calling. Perhaps only half of them and that will be bad enough.

I’ve had too much to drink. I went out and tried to be something like a barfly. I tried to do the things that others do, to do things that would be fun, to leave the comfort of my own home and well, it was both good and bad.

GF was supposed to meet me at the bar, but instead she got out of school late so immediately we had to go to the grocery store and you know how that does wonders for my mood. Especially after three beers and a Hemingway daiquiri. And before that two cappuccinos. Looks like another red letter night for dreams.

We’re sitting at the table, she’s reading, and I’m thinking about nothing because my brain is racing like a pro.

Well I just don’t get inspired by alcohol like some people do. And now GF is moving to the couch, so I will have to follow suit, and she will fall asleep soon and I am working back to back doubles starting tomorrow so if I know what’s best for me I’ll go to sleep, just like she will in a matter of minutes, because she can’t be comfortable and read and drink tea without falling asleep.

I thought I had it all figured out, a number of times today, and then I don’t know, I got home and called Citibank.

Only If For a Night

Shit I couldn’t hardly sleep last night after a long day of working I came home and ate some seafood pizza that GF made and drank half a bottle of Californian psuedo-champagne I got for free from a man in a bejeweled blazer. The pizza was delicious. I ran out of bubbly halfway through so I also had a beer. And before that, I had a shit ton of caffeine, so my dreams were lucid yet horrible.

I dreamed I was serving lemonade, bartender style, at a bus stop where these cranky bitches who brunch were yelling at me and Lawrence Fishburne wasn’t taking any guff. It was awful. And with GF turning on and off the lights and whatnot shit was getting psychadelic in there.

She had to go to this volunteer thing at like 6:30 in the morning, so all this was going on around 6. I was like fuck it, I’m getting up. And that rarely happens but the dreams were so bad and I felt like a ball of fiendishness.

I’ve been up for a few hours now and watched the sun not rise at all behind all the clouds from the windows of the office.

Shit I did my taxes. Just got my last W2. Got some money back but for the first time in my life I don’t need it desperately to make a payment. I mean, the loan companies want it but they can wait. I’m just going to bank that bitch and I’m sure the IRS will come calling wanting that shit back anyway.

Yeah but then I thought about asking GF to marry me. I would have a long time ago but never had enough money for a ring and we’re in no rush anyway, since we’ve been living as a married couple since 2009. But now I got this credit card with six months of no interest so fuck it!

Now my landlord is outside walking around with that weird Saturday morning gait, checking license plates and whatnot.

So basically all is right and good with the world, and my life is a tiny sphere of perfection. Just waiting for other shoe to drop, as it were. A mother fucker really can’t get this lucky forever.