Sometimes I Watch a Lot of TV

Last night I watched The Big Short for the first time. It’s on Netflix now. It was awesome! Schmidt from New Girl was there. He’s my favorite character on New Girl. I watched two seasons of that show with my wife. I watch shows sometimes.

My favorite character in The Big Short was Steve Carrell. He’s a great actor. I also liked him in Little Miss Sunshine. I want to watch that movie where he’s sleeping on a sandwich. I think that’s an old movie. I always wanted to watch that movie but my wife does not think it will be interesting. Something about the sandwich and the look on his face, I guess.

I am re-listening to High Violet by The National. It is probably my favorite album of theirs, even after listening to all of their other albums a hundred times each.

I wrote a lot of fiction so far this year. I might publish something later. I don’t know if I will try to publish it online or send it off to publishers and shit. I don’t know. Have you ever heard of Wattpad? Maybe I’ll put it on there.

How have you been? I guess I’ve been alright. Why not? I’m having a great year, really, even though it usually doesn’t feel like it. I’ve taken a lot of vacations, written a lot of fiction, applied to a few jobs, gotten a few callbacks (which is new territory for me), stayed at the same job for even longer (which is good for my resume, I think…I don’t know anymore), saved more money than ever (which isn’t a lot, I need a better money plan) and other shit like that.

I am thirty now, which seems like it happened a long time ago. I’ve got to figure out how to be good at 40 before that happens.

I watched Tony Robbins on Netflix. I read that he has a tumor that secretes human growth hormone. That makes a lot of sense to me. I wish there was a real documentary about his real life instead of just focusing on his seminars. What a crazy ass! I don’t really like him, I think, but I can’t help getting sucked into what he is saying. Alain de Botton says that his book Awaken the Giant Within is the most depressing thing he’s read in a while, which is funny because it’s supposed to be motivational. The book is supposed to be motivational that is.

I’m almost finished with Mad Men. I have two episodes left. Everything is unravelling for the hero. Well, it had to happen sometime. I guess it’s been happening the whole time.

My jawbone hurts.

Tonight we’re going to watch Agents of Shield. We are almost done with the third season. I watch a lot of TV when I write it out. I don’t watch as much as a lot of people. I watch more than Ralph Waldo Emerson.

I went to the beach for the fourth time this summer yesterday. I am really going hard this summer. I am going on another road trip next weekend. I just have to keep resisting putting anything on my credit card. Last year it said if I keep making minimum payments it will take me 18 years to pay it off. I made some really big payments over the year, but I also used it a couple of times, and then this year it says if I keep making minimum payments it will take me 17 years to pay off. Sweet.

The restaurant is really slow so I am not making much money at all. And I am going to the Tokyo and the Philippines in a couple of weeks.

I still haven’t bought Imajica so I haven’t made any progress there. But I did read the first eleven chapters of Ham on Rye on the beach. I still have a quarter of Moby Dick to go.

I don’t feel good today. Yesterday I drank a pitcher of margaritas, two beers, two shots, a whiskey and coke and the rest of a leftover bottle of sparkling wine. My brother was in town with his girlfriend. My brother and I drink for no reason sometimes. I was chasing the high and I hit it for a couple of hours. And then I lost it.

I just scratched my eye and now it itches like the devil. I have a scratching addiction. I wish I could stop.

If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. If you can’t join ’em, watch Agents of Shield on Netflix and scratch your balls. Those who can’t do, teach. Teach a man to fish and he’ll come back and murder you in your sleep. Sleep is the sister of death. Death is coming for us all. All’s well that ends well.

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Repetition and Metaphors

It kicks like a sleep twitch. I just been listening to a few songs on repeat, yesterday and today.

I listened to The Xx for the first time two days ago with GF on NPR and really liked them so I’ve been playing Crystalize and Angels alternately three times, and then Anyone’s Ghost and Conversation 16 by The National, and then Crystalize and Angels again, and then Papillon by The Editors just to mix it up.

Most of the time I write in silence or else I’ll start to put in lyrics of the songs because I just can’t help it. But I played this little playlist like 10 times yesterday before work and I’m on my way to doing the same thing today.

And I’m doing almost exactly what I did yesterday.

And it’s awesome.

I’ve been really sore from riding my bike to work and apparently a lot of the pain has to do with the bike being too big for me. I’ll let you figure out the metaphor in there.

But other than the fact that it hurts to bend over, working at the bar has been pretty cool. I do have to suppress my ego like a mother fucker as people treat me like a non entity, both on the road and at the bar, but that’s a good exercise anyway.

I finished reading Blown Away by Caitlin Kelly a couple days ago. I meant to get up early today so I could get some reading in but I went to be at 2:30 and just slept through all my 9:30 alarms. I wouldn’t have gotten up if American Express hadn’t called me at 10:30. Thanks guys!

I got enough money this paycheck to almost pay the rent, so that’s good.

I made an omelette with chicken sausage and cheddar and peppers and it made me want to throw up, so that sucks.

I’m going to make some coffee soon, that’s going to be sweet, in a non-literal way.

I’m about halfway through my second reading of Great Expectations. It’s good.

I don’t know, in this part of time I’m feeling less realistic and literal. I feel like expressing my emotions and ideas at this moment all comes out in absurdist bullshit or song lyrics. Fuck it I’ll just go with it for now. It’s working okay anyway.

Live on coffee and flowers.

Back in the House

It’s cold out there ya’ll. Snowing last night and shit. Snows like a mofo in this town. But I am so warm and toasty now I got the space heater and the regular heaters rocking. And I heated up some soup from last night, the squash soup, and opened up a bottle of red wine I bought from work to learn about since my wine education has been slowing down to the point it’s falling backwards. And now I got a head rush. And I’m eating this roasted duck,what’s left of it. Oh my God I can hardly function this way. And I just finished reading Ruth Reichl’s Garlic and Sapphires. An amazing book that talks about food all the time, so I am in a food place right now, a food paradise. A paradise of the senses. And fingers on the keys too so I got the touch and I’m listening to The National so I got the ears going too. Life just doesn’t get much better than this.

I wanted to link to this interview about Seth Godin if only to remind myself later that I read it at this time, because I think it’s going to change the way I look at writing, or at least change a little bit, or at least start a change to the way I approach the idea of writing. This is how Seth Godin writes. This was the part that really made me think:

What’s your best advice for overcoming procrastination?

The deadline focuses the mind, of course. The curse of the traditional writer is that the publisher wants a book no more often than once a year. So procrastination is part of the process.

But blogging? Once a day. Not every minute like Twitter, which provokes mediocre writing because there’s so much of it. But every day? Better write something, better make it good.

Oh my god I’m like the posterboy for gluttony right now. This class I took once, Biblical and Classical Literature, one of the five major contributors to my renouncing my Christian faith, we had to illustrate the seven deadly sins. I could take a picture of myself right now. Shoving basically an entire duck in my mouth. Oh my god oh my god.

Though I’ll remember not to recommend this wine with duck.

“Better write something. Better make it good.” I’ve just been thinking that over and over again today.

Tonight should be a good night for writing. GF has a lot of reading to do and I don’t think we have anywhere to go. Tomorrow I’m going to take this rusted bike to the bike shop and see what’s what. I’ve been having to take a taxi home after work too many times  and it’s not financially sustainable so time to consider other options. Helmets probably cost a shitload. Or a shit-ton. Or at least a guinea.

I’m slowly making my way through Great Expectations. The last time I read it was in…ninth grade or before that. I’m at the time when Pip is taking leave of his old friends and he’s being a total douche. Poor Joe.

I’m going to try to write something about something specific today. Maybe instead of being a food critic like Ruth Reichl I could be a book reviewer. I need more time to read books though. Fuck it I’m already a bartender. I’ll write a post about this wine.

Ohio Won’t Remember Me

Well I’ll be damned. Ya’ll are some irascible mother fuckers. God damn I love you crazy bastards.

And I use irascible in the street sense of course. Which means cool as shit.

Well I had myself a time writing that essay, and a better time reading your comments.

And there is just so much shit that I want to say right now, and I won’t get any of it done I know. Because it’s about Midnight and Ohio won’t remember shit. AKA GF is almost ready for bed and I still haven’t showered.

I wanted to talk about what I just ate and how damned good it was. And the work day with coworker. The coworker from the other posts. Everything turned out hunkey dorey with that red faced dude. Man, I like him actually. And I wanted to talk about how I been looking at Seth Godin all wrong. I been straight up talking a lot about that dude, in fact he’s about to rival Chuck Klosterman for most talked about dude on Anyone’s Ghost. But all my memories of what Seth Godin is talking about are all skewed because I read them like three or more years ago and I’m a whole different dude these days. And I wanted to talk about…something else too what was it. Oh how I totally lied to my coworker and he loved me for it.

In a perfect world I’ll have some time to write tomorrow. But the world ain’t perfect so we’ll just have to see.

But ho damn I just ate the most luxurious shit. Just walked through the door and had some roast duck and some squash soup GF made in class. Then I had some banana bread GF made at home. And I drank some Harpoon Winter Warmer. I feel so warm on the inside.

What I’ve Learned So Far About Blogging and Life

Readability Index: Unreadable Due to Length

Alright what I’m going to try to do here is create a unique field theory…I mean a unified field theory of blogging by me. A unified field theory of my life and what blogging means to it. What has writing this blog done to me over the last week and how can I make it useful to my life. How can I enjoy it more fully. How can I do something…how can I feel good about it.

Well, like the first time I started blogging on this mother fucker, I’ve got The National keyed up. Playing “Anyone’s Ghost” over and over again. Great song. I can lose myself in the rhythm of it.

Sometimes I feel like cursing and sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I feel nice and sometimes I’m itchy. Someone just called me. I hate phones because they interrupt everything. People are mad at me all the time because I don’t pick up my phone. But I can’t plan for that shit. I don’t know how they made it back in the day with regular phones just ringing all the time and you couldn’t even see who was calling. Screening your calls meant listening to the answering machine.

But that’s all beside the point of course.

I washed the dishes and ate another muffin. I should eat again before I go to work. I was thinking I should enjoy work and stop dreading leaving the house, but that’s just part of me, dreading leaving the house, I can have as much fun as I want when I get out there but the next day I’ll be dreading it all over again. Much like taking a shower.

I still feel like this blog is a kind of fleeting addiction. I have them all the time. Sometimes I’m really into drawing, or basketball, or wine, or…well anything. The one activity I have done throughout my life is writing. So maybe that bodes well for the blog. Because this is a good kind of writing. A kind of writing that motivates me to keep writing. I really like just spitting out my thoughts. And the craziest thing about it is that people read it. It’s there for people to read, like a well dressed pamphlet fluttering down a busy street, but unlike the pamphlet that gets stomped on and waved away and stuck to car bumpers, this blog gets read by people from all over the world. They take time to read the words that came straight out of my head, without any revision or intense labor over them. It’s crazy to me that people like to read that much. Now I like to read that much, but I never thought that so many other people did. It’s the difference between knowing something and feeling it, is something I always say. I know that people are like me, but I don’t feel it.

But along with the addiction idea, is the feeling that perhaps this isn’t healthy. Perhaps I should be going outside and running around, or cleaning the house, or getting a part time job, or toiling away at writing a novel. This is just a part of how I feel about everything except actual paid by the hour work, the feeling that I should be doing something else, that I could be doing something more productive at that moment. The times I snap out of this feeling are usually when I consider that some people don’t have any time or any choice of what they do at any time of the day. A man with no lets can’t decide to cut his toenails, and a starving child can’t decide whether to eat coconut almond muffins or just skip lunch. So that usually gets me focused back on the crazy thing about my life which is that I have the world available to me, as unfair as that may be to other people.

And I use the word crazy too much. It’s kind of a catch all for things I don’t understand or can’t grasp, as well as something I aspire to, like ‘damn that dude is crazy!’

So I don’t want to feel like this is an addiction. Something I think about all the time, that I can’t wait to get back to, that I’m unhappy if I’m not doing it…unless I do want to feel like that. Isaac Asimov felt like that about writing fiction and I’ve always admired him. A lot of people say about writers: “If you can’t not write, then you’re a writer.” I’ve always replied, “well I guess I’m not a writer because I could sleep all day, wake up drink and watch Downton Abbey reruns and I won’t be worried about a damn bit of writing.” Writing is usually something I do because I’m good at it and I like it. Not because I need it. But maybe being addicted to this blog will be like needing to write, which would then put me in the company of great writers, which would then perhaps make me a great writer.

The most wonderful thing about this blog, and I mean wonderful in the truly literal sense as in it creates within my mind a great sense of…wonder…is that I have been able to in some way make at least one person’s life a little more interesting. It’s really weird, actually, to have the effect on someone through writing. I like to think that I make people’s lives better in general when I know them, because I’m hardworking and nice and charming; but it’s super weird to think that my writing has affected someone I don’t know outside of the written word relationship of blogging. Of course I’ve always known that that was what writing is all about, but I didn’t feel it. And when I say feel and know, of course they are happening in the same place, in the mind with the chemicals and neural pathways and all that, I’m really differentiating between theoretical knowledge and practical knowledge. In theory writing is communication with other minds…but I’ve never before felt the practical application of that knowledge. Just had to make a note for those Ayn Rand types who would laugh at my use of the word “feel.” Ah see, sometimes I worry about impressions for long periods of time without even realizing it. Then again, you can’t say you’re not thinking about the impression you’re making if you’re writing for people to look at it. You’re writing expressly to create an impression, whether in your own mind or someone else’s. What I don’t want to do at least on this blog is to worry that I’m making the wrong impression. Because as I’ve stated before I spend most of m life doing that.

The practical uses of this blog, and by that what I mean to say (or meantersay, as Joe Gargery would say) is the uses of the blog that I would be happy with even if no one ever saw it, are numerous. Being namely that words look pretty on this blog, my thoughts are organized with tags and categories, and even while I’m typing this information is being saved on the internet so that even if my computer should spontaneously combust, I would not lose any of this. So those are good things. Before I started blogging I would write this kind of random bullshit gibberish, but I would save it on a Word document. I would lose all those with my computer. Also with this infinite display of the articles in reverse chronological order, I can more easily reread these posts than I can read all those word documents that are separated and whatnot.

Hm yes but what is the overall idea. What is the purpose? Of course, we all know how I feel about the purpose of life. Since we’re doomed it really doesn’t matter what we do. Except that we can’t. But that’s a load of horseshit.

What then is the difference between bullshit and horseshit?

I do want to create something of value. And I do love writing in this extemporaneous style. Revisions have always been a bitch to me. I have always thought of art as revision, controlling the impression you’re making on people. And that’s well and good. You can’t have a wonderful novel like Freedom without revision. You can’t have an awesome movie like Spartacus without editing. Hm but maybe you can have an incredible novel like On the Road if you practice writing a lot a lot and fill your head jam packed with experiences and information and then sit down at your computer with a gallon of coffee and type for a week straight.

Maybe I will write something in the vein of On the Road, with a Hunter S Thompson slant, with a subject that is truth, that is not fictitious. I will be like Chuck Klosterman, perhaps. The more I blog the more I like that mother fucker and I never once really thought about it before, except right after I got done reading Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. I’d pretty much forgotten about him until it came up while I was commenting on someone else’s blog and now I find myself quoting him a lot. And what he does is pretty cool. He talks about the world we live in in a funny way. And an insightful way. I bet I could do something like that at least 10 percent as good as him if I really worked at it.

I think my style of writing is pretty engaging. If I were to talk about something people cared about, I think at least some people would find that worthwhile. Hrmph well…shit

Rum and the Philippines

This picture shows some graffiti in Brooklyn, New York

I like this wall


Shit. Maybe this has nothing to do with rum or the Philippines. But anyway fuck it. I’m going all out on this one and calling up Rumpelstiltskin and the gang. That’s what I told myself an hour ago, but I’m still here, just me, drinking this beer and scratching my eye lids.

About four hours ago I had a redeye, or a shot-in-the-dark, or a brewski, a coffee with espresso in it however you’d like to say it. Won’t be able to sleep for a while and that’s how I like it. I’ve listened to the song Anyone’s Ghost by The National 9 times in a row since I sat down a minute ago. Or an hour ago. No an hour ago I danced around the kitchen and did the dishes. Fuck it.

Yeah so I was reading about rum and the Philippines. This one rum called Don Papa named after a hero of the Philippines. Someone who apparently helped liberate the island of Negros from Spanish rule. Now is it Negros the island…or is there an island called Negros Occidental…or is that a town? I don’t know. Shit I could find out but I’ll save it for later. Something I don’t know.

God damn I am in shape. How did I get this way? I don’t know. For dinner I ate a pound and a half of elbow macaroni. Did I say dinner because I meant I ate that around dinner time. Then later I ate leftover Chinese food, enough that it could be considered dinner, too. Fuck it.

Shit, Rumpelstiltskin is not spelled Rumplestiltskin. Rumple is a word, though. My brain feels rumply right now. Hoo shit it looks like Rumply is a word, too.

Fuck it.

Anyway I’m thinking about going to the Philippines. And they drink a lot of rum there. Apparently, Tom Brown and I have read the same book. He’s sticking loggerheads into rum and sugar concoctions and calling it flip, and well he should since I have just read a book that talked about doing just that and calling it flip back in the days when the states were just colonies. That book was …And a Bottle of Rum. Which apparently was one of the lines of the old school version of a Katy Perry song.

But shit, what’s the point? To any of it or all of it. Fuck it, I don’t know. I really don’t. The whole thing smells funny in a metaphorical way. I wish I knew what a metaphor really was, but it’s hard to pin those fuckers down.

I think I’ll go around and comment on some people’s blog posts.

Fuck it.