I cannot wait
until December 21st, 2012. The world will not end. Life as we know it will continue. And hopefully, we will finally accept the facts that: NO ONE IS COMING TO SAVE US. and NO ONE IS COMING TO KILL US. Like it or not, we are our only hope. Maybe, after the last major “end of the world” theory is gone…then we’ll stop wishing we were dead, and start exploring the...
I take the last two deliveries of the night. For the first one, I have to knock three times. The dude opens the door, slightly wasted, surprised that his pie showed up so quick. He tips a whole dollar seventy five. The next address I recognize as one who never tips. I scream, and after I pull up, I slam the door to my car. Sure enough, the bill is $20.75, and she gives me a twenty, and 75...
It's come to this:
I’m watching Friday Night Lights, while drinking tequila, beer, and doing coke.
Fresh Wisdom, 12/21/11.1
When you have something, and you find someone who needs it more than you, give it to them.
Fresh Wisdom, 12/21/11
You have all the chances you need, but this is the only one that matters.
I was watching
a Patton Oswalt stand up show from 2004, today. I’m not sure where they shot it, but the audience was about 95% white. Every time the camera cut to an audience reaction shot, it would be of one, or two, boring, pasty white people who look like they all shop from J. Crew, and Land’s End cataloges. All politely smiling, laughing with excellent posture. It started to bum me out. I...
It was all going so well...
I was drunk, but hadn’t done any coke, and hadn’t smoked any cigarettes. The bar was closing, and we were headed over to J’s house to keep partying. But, we needed beer from the 7-11, first. I should grab something to eat, my booze soaked brain managed to think. Chicken. Salad. Sandwich. Uuuuuuuugh.
Holiday Party in 3...2...
Wait. I mean, I’m trying not to whine about things, and be pessimistic, but let’s look at the facts. Every time I have been out with the dudes I work with, these things are pretty much guaranteed to happen: *Someone will be doing way too much coke. *Someone will be talking about ex girlfriends/girlfriends/wives *Someone will start talking, A LOT, about their band. Either the one...
So far, the subject has acknowledged feelings of self hatred, and shown signs of self destructive tendencies. The subject is overwhelmed by outside pressure about what to do with with his “talent”. He has trouble admitting that he is in any way special, and it makes him uncomfortable to do so, regardless of how many people tell him that he is. The subject has a fear of failure,...
I need a job
that shows more evidence of the good side of people. A job in the food service, which also entails a lot of driving, is really draining.
I should just get back to being awesome. It’s actually pretty cool.
You know why
I talk to myself all the time? To distract myself from all this dumb shit that we’ve created. I tell myself that I don’t want the world as we know it to end, but really, I think I would be a lot happier just sunning myself on a log, than typing down all my thoughts into a computer. Call me crazy.
"Let not one be judged by their cause for action,...
if not having a prostate makes taking a good solid shit less awesome for women. I guess we’ll never know.
When I was a kid,
in elementary school, we used to have to go to sing-a-longs. They’d haul us all into the cafeteria, where we’d have to sit cross legged on the cold linoleum, while the “music teacher”, a 30something dude with a corduroy jacket, curly hair, and a beard would put transparencies of song lyrics up on an overhead projector. For an hour, we’d all sing (or pretend to...
Sometimes, I wonder
if people say they like a band because they themselves play music, and the band they say they like’s talent level is close to what they put theirs at. Like, it’s not that the band is all that good, it’s that people can relate to them being not that good. I don’t know, dude. I’n stoned, and was just listening to Wild Flag, which I thought was not that good. Not...
A daily dose of Missed Conections
alleviates the feelings of loneliness.
Let's face it:
Titties and dicks are more fun than “thoughts on life”. I skip through your shit, too.
Two new rules
1) Whenever I consider drinking, I’ve started to imagine whatever I’m drinking (wine, beer, booze) as a glass of lukewarm fat, going down my throat. And not cooked fat: raw, gooey, chunky, salty, tepid fat sliding over my tongue, making me want to gag. So far, it’s served well as a deterrent to getting drunk. 2) Just now, I decided I check my email/facebook/tumblr way too often....
O' won't you DAHCE with me?
As I drove down the street, I passed a ballroom dance studio, and the marque outside advertised that my first dance lesson would be free. The following is the thought process that occurred in the next five seconds: Hm. Maybe I outta take some dance lessons; I did alright at swing dancing, back when it made it’s comeback and Clover needed a partner. I don’t dance much, anymore. Maybe...
Do whatever you want
as long as you don’t hurt anyone. Harder than it sounds, at first…until you realize you just have to think a little bit extra before you do something. That seems like a good habit to start.
Why is retraint
a good thing? Why is there only so much of something I will allow myself, before I feel guilty about it? Maybe it’s because every moment is a life or death moment. That all made more sense when I thought it, than when I actually wrote it down.
Whatever I do
is fine. I’m the only one who has final say about that.
are we constantly punishing ourselves?
I am constantly
negotiating with myself on trying to rationalize my way into allowing myself to have fun. In my head there is a separation being “things that are fun”, and “things that make you worth anything”. In other words, I’m not going to let myself have any fun until I’m taken seriously. Funny, how things go.
You know what's better
than open mic night at the bar under your apartment? When it’s open mic night at a bar under your apartment by shitheads who have no idea how to properly operate a PA system, and so the open mic booms with every other word. How am I supposed to stop drinking?
more things to love in my life. As opposed to things that fill me with rage, and anger. I’m sick of that shit.
O' to be white, and middle class.
sane-going-insane: First world problems the-absolute-funniest-posts: This is a cool blog to follow
I got some new glasses
and in the 24 hours I’ve been wearing them, no one has said a word. Granted, they don’t look much different than my old ones, but with no one saying anything, ‘what if’s’ have started to creep in. Do they look stupid? Are they too big? Maybe I should shave the beard. Maybe I should stop thinking so girly. And then, start saving up for Lasik.
If I were a superhero
I’d be the one who avenges shitty drivers. I’d just cruise around in a dark grey, non-descript car, and every time I saw some asshole blow through a four way stop, or run a red light, or cut somebody off, etc. I’d calmly follow them to their destination, wait for them to exit the vehicle, and then smash all the windows and slash the tires. People who I saw texting while...
A cabin, in the woods
With a couple cords of wood, enough canned goods to last through the winter, a dozen books I’ve been meaning to read, many sketch pads, a few bottles of whiskey… …and a few high powered, semi-automatic machine guns to keep the rest of the world the fuck away me.
It's hard to think of
things to talk about in tharapy when you’re in a good mood. I feel like I’m a first year parent, and I just got my bad mood baby to sleep for the first time in hours. I want to put signs on the door instructing people not to knock, or ring the bell. I won’t watch tv, or listen to the radio. I’ll put a muzzle on the door. I’ll drown the cat in wet cement....