Okay, not sure how much time I have. This, hopefully, will be quick and strange and full of explosive wit. Fuck yeah! I have to wake up at 6 in the morning, to go to the shitty job that I’m starting to hate. But fuck it.
So I started off my day listening to Godspeed You! Black Emperor. And I am finishing my day with the same band. I love this music. Strings are good things, and the crescendos. Oh, love is here.
So. Girls are on hold. Because it’s all too complicated for me right now. And the job? Sucks ass. So. Fuck any promotion they may or may not throw at me. I am saving my money. I put away $200 in my beer fridge tonight, and I’m not spending it. I will do the same thing next week. And the week after.
One thing to do now. Set my sights on what I want, what I’m doing… and just go do it. I’m leaving for Portland in the middle of October, whether I have my $3,000 saved or not. Fuck it. I have some friends, places to stay (I think, I hope), and I’m just gonna go. I know NY will just devour my spirit if I stick around. So. That’s it. I have to work at a job I hate. I have to deal with whatever lonely nights I have to deal with. I have to save all of my money. I have to go. No way around it.
I do wish I could sell crack. No, not really. But I do wish I could sell pot. I could make some good money doing that. But living in a house with kids and stuff… that’s not cool. But, god damn, that would make my saving process much easier. I already know like 9 people at work that would buy regularly. Damn it.
Maybe I can find something else soon though, for extra money. Maybe some idiot will pay me to write stuff for their magazine or something. You guys would read my shit if it was in a magazine, right? I know I’m not very good at writing or anything, but I think I’m probably sorta interesting or weird or funny or SOMETHING that would be worth reading.
Something has to be done though. I’ll work on that.
Uhhh, let’s see. I went shopping yesterday. For clothes. I don’t shop. Literally. This is the first time I’ve spent $67.34 on clothes in maybe 6 years or so. I went to a giant thrift store. I got 9 t-shirts, 2 shirt shirts (they have some buttons), 2 pairs of jeans, and a pair of some pretty great old school Puma sneakers. OH!!! And I bought a shot glass that says “The Stud’s Bar,” for all of these strange lonely nights of whiskey drinking. AND!!! 6 issues of “Man, Myth & Magic,” which is some weird magazine mini-series from 1971 that describes itself as “an illustrated encyclopedia of the supernatural.” I am going to use all the pictures of goat-faced-humans to make a giant photo collage. I will make the greatest piece of art ever assembled. And then I’m gonna sell it for $40,000. Pretty cool, right? These magazines cost me 29 cents per issue. Which, in American dollars, is about as valuable as rabbit shit. (I will also be writing my reactions to some of the stories I read in these magazines, here on this blog. Because you people are obviously pretty fucking weird and I assume you crave as much weirdness as possible, yes?)
But I did. I went shopping. I felt guilty. I should’ve put the money away for savings, but I’ve been hurting. I mean I generally wear the same 5 t-shirts, 2 pairs of jeans, 1 pair of shoes. All week. At least now, I will not have to do laundry as often. Because laundry sucks cocks.
Saving, yes. But I am going to buy a camera pretty soon. I want to take some pictures. I’m sort of a brilliant photographer. I have “an eye for composition” and stuff. Want to see? Maybe I will fill this post up with a few of my pictures. You will look at them and be like, “Oh my, this young gentleman has quite an eye for composition” and stuff.
Also, and this is important. I want to fuck. I really, really do. I don’t know why I went and got all weird on hot tattoo chick. That could’ve been perfect. Just a good, healthy, weekly fuckfest? God damn it, Rob. I just HAAAAAD to let my brain start in with that THINKING bullshit. Damn, homey. But now, what to do? I mean, do I seek out other people to sleep with? Or do I go back to my “no sex” pact thing? I don’t know. I do, I certainly do want to fuck though. God, and this blog is read by chicks all the time. I’m so sorry you have to suffer through my bullshit.
But seriously. I am a twenty-eight year old man. I am not the type to wake up with “morning wood” like I did when I was a teenager. But WOW, man. Every day this week, I am waking up with a relentless boner that will not stop until I stroke the life right out of it. And that’s BIZARRE to me! I don’t know what to do. And I see beautiful women all day, and I can’t help but thinking about… oh man. I’m being good. I won’t say it. But if you knew the things that are on my mind all day… wow. I just want to fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!!! What’s the word for “fuck” in the language of the Greeks? BECAUSE I WANT TO DO THAT TOO.
But no. I’m surely going to just relax. And masturbate more often. And try not to be too brazen with my flirting. It takes dedication.
Sooooooooo, anyway. This post has turned out to be a little odd. I’m gonna go now. I should go to bed but I don’t think I’m ready. Man. If I was in Portland already, I know two lovely ladies who would be down for fucking RIGHT NOW. And they’re both good friends, and there’d be no weirdness whatsoever. Too bad.
So. Shopping, fucking, job stuff… I am starting to sound very American, no?
I’m going to post a song now. I think I may have posted it here months ago. But nobody read my blog back then. So maybe now you’ll all be like, “O man! What a great song!”