Yesterday I got so tired. We walked around Central Park and the upper east side. We saw a fire up there. Then we were completely fucked by the subway. Then we tried to negotiate the streets in a Lyft. That was even worse. We had to run a mile to the next station to make sure he got to his second day of work on time. We pretended like nothing happened. 

I drank a glass of white wine and felt woozy and phlegm collected in my throat. I slept ten hours and now I don’t want to get out of bed. We have a lot of work to do, but I’m worried I’m neglecting other work I have to do. It’s like I’m back where I was. In some ways. Maybe once I get out of this bed I’ll be alright.

Scratching My Balls Part 10 ^ 6

Sometimes you just need a good cry, right? That’s something people say. Have you ever done that? Sit around and wait for your Zappos order to show up all day?

Today I am off. I worked my way through a couple of chapters of Learning to Program by Steven Foote. Suddenly I couldn’t proceed. Mental capacity reached, I guess.

I don’t really mind going to work any more. I have been at my current restaurant for a year or so and it’s pretty comfortable. I can say funny things to people with uncanny regularity. I enjoy doing that.

I have been bad at blogging so far this year with only forty posts. I guess I just ran out of shit to say. I guess I’ve said that before, fuck it though, because if I can’t repeat myself I guess I won’t write any more posts this year.

I put on some pants a minute ago and showered my genitals with baby powder. When you just been sitting around scratching your balls all day shit gets real. Got to calm that shit down. I was like, “Hell yeah I’m about to go outside before I scratch through to the other side of my balls here. Jesus Christ I am fucking disgusting. Why didn’t anyone tell me to stop scratching my balls all the time when I was a kid? How do I stop this shit! Fuck! I’m totally going outside now, fuck it! I’m going to have an espresso somewhere and be mad European and I’m going to wash my fingernails.”

I put on some pants for the first time today and I put on the baby powder and now there’s a fine white over everything. I tried to create a good “while” loop in JavaScript and then I decided to just stay home and have a good cry on the old blog. God damn Zappos. I was supposed to get some Birkenstocks today. There’s a quarter sized hole in my Gap flip flops circa 2005 so I thought I would treat myself. Then the first time I ordered them everyone on the reviews was like “Watch out! Get the narrow size because these shits is wide as fuck!” So I did and of course my feets was wide as fuck so I had to send em back.

I ain’t really do any writing at all, except for my weekly posts on Conceited Crusade. My writing friend left town so I said fuck it.

What the hell am I going to do? I could go out there, I guess. Fuck it. Pretty rich for the next three days since I’m not going to pay my student loan on time. Can probably afford three dollars and now the itch is coming back with a vengeance. Hoo. Shit.

I am into this whole programming thing and think I can make good money doing it once I figure it out, I just don’t have any time frame for when I’m going to figure it out or when I’ll know that I have figured it out. I guess I’ve got to buy some tech magazines or something.

I’m pretty sure whatever social obligations I have are falling through the mother fucking cracks so to speak because I have no idea what any of them are. I don’t have time to think about it since the house is clean and I have a steady job with reasonable time off and I’m getting solid amounts of sleep at night. At the end of the day what is there to do? Should I buy a book about math and try to relearn that shit? I’ve got to come up with some kind of curriculum for myself or some shit. Even my days at work are pretty much days off since I just got to go in there make enough jokes to forget that we’re all dying and then go up and down a bunch of stairs like three hundred times.

New York City. Don’t care if I stay or if I go. Indifferent. Just got to manage this shit really, manage your expectations and plan your coming and your going. Don’t get caught in the wrong place at the right time.

Reading the New York Times and thinking I should read something more representative of something but I don’t know what. I should know things. I read an article about Joy Williams and another one by the same guy about the band Spoon. Now I’m listening to Spoon. I guess you got to waste your life in one way or another.

I got to think more positively. I got to feel like things matter and shit like that. It’s almost decorative gourd season.

Just So I Could Say I Did It

Last night I had my first slice of dollar pizza from some greasy ass Lower East Side joint around midnight. I was on my way to Tiki Monday at Pouring Ribbons, a little cocktail bar on Avenue B. Over the weekend I saw the first broadway show I’ve seen since moving here. And I rode in my first Uber truck from one bar to the next. I also visited my first unmarked door bar, led there by one of the guys that work there. It was the first night in New York City that I went out alone. My old bar tending friend was in town from Boston just for the night, so I made an exception to my no going out ever policy. It was fun and I somehow managed to avoid smoking a cigarette, even though the one guy had them. And everything was practically free. It really couldn’t have gone better.

My dad asked me while he was here why I was living in the city anyway, since it was so crazy here. I figured out that I just wanted to have done a bunch of stuff. I said that stuff might not be fun while you’re doing it, but remembering it later will be fun.

I’m only going to be working four days a week now since we hired some new people and some other factors. So I am going to have to really start moving in some kind of positive direction career-wise.

I tried to spend today working on this book project, but I am demoralized as I don’t know what the next step is and the client continues to ask infuriating questions.

Richard Feynman in Central Park

I dreamed of a coffeehouse full of toys and couldn’t find a place to return my dirty dishes and when I did they had all become screws and it was necessary to sort them into specific compartments. I dropped them on the floor and a fluffy white dog went to eat them so I picked them up but they multiplied like hydra heads and my wife was waiting outside with arugula in her hair.

Yesterday I went to Central Park for the first time since moving here. My good friend came with me and we stopped at a mini book fair on the way. He bought a book of Japanese Poetry and I wished I could commit to reading Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. I couldn’t commit because here in my apartment sit a small detachment of my army of books, the rest of which I’ve locked in storage on Fulton Street in East New York, and I’ve decided not to move until I’ve read all of them.

Good Friend found a copy of On the Road and handed it to me and I remembered why I haven’t read either Good Omens or Harold Bloom’s Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human. It’s because I keep rereading On the Road and Catch 22.

We walked through the park for about half an hour, took some pictures and threw a few loose quarters at a guy playing an Erhu. There were two guys actually, in separate parts of the park, but the first sounded like a train derailment shrouded in sackcloth and ashes.

Then we walked out of the park and I said, “I’m unimpressed.”

Good Friend said he thought it was great but I could tell he thought it was good.

We walked up the west side of the park looking for a bodega to get some stakeout coffee without realizing that we were in the one place in the world least likely to contain a bodega. This fact became apparent after a few blocks and I looked at the map on my phone to find a more likely location.

We were surprised to see that the blue dot indicated we had covered only about one percent of Central Park. Richard Feynman said, “Explore the world. Nearly everything is really interesting if you go into it deep enough.” Gordon Flanders said, “Walk around dispassionately. Nearly everything is really a waste of time if you go into with the right attitude.”