Time is a matter of fact, it’s gone and it’ll never come back.

Fuckin’ A, man. I am getting really behind on this shit. I have too much, too many stories and things to talk about, ones that have kept happening in recent weeks. So I guess in an effort to kind of just… clear the mechanism, I must purge the ideas that have been lighting fires inside me as of late. It’s sad because some of these things would be fun to write and write and write about, but I really don’t believe I’ll ever do it. So. Whatever. Basically, I’m going to change subject frequently with or without giving due notice. So. Yes.

I got drunk(ish) at work today. Not so much at work but I’ve continued on since arriving safely home. Having some Southampton Publick House IPAs. Rather delicious. Some Jim Beam as well. I just want to make it known that I’m not feeling like being held responsible or accountable for the things I may say here. I want to just do the fucking thing already and then go relax.

Anyway. Let’s see… Uhh. See? Now I have nothing to say.

I found my new favorite bar! Which is weird because it’s on Long Island. But yes. It’s pretty great. Called Painters’ Restaurant. But it’s a restaurant/bar/weird place. It’s fucking huge, for one. And it’s got a lot of wall-space, all of which (like ALL of the wall space) is covered by paintings and drawings. There are also a few rad sculpture installations hanging around. There is a sit down at tables and eat area. But there is also a pretty large bar in the middle and then like another huge area with more tables and couches and foosball and a piano and all of that, another bar down there too. And two pretty cozy outdoor areas. I am going to try playing some songs at one of their open mic nights, because I think there will probably be some good people there. Cool.

I went there on a date. Or maybe a friend date. I don’t know really yet. It’s hard to know these things sometimes. Or maybe it’s always hard to know these things. The lady was nice though, I liked her. She’s like a… I don’t even know, she’s pretty badass or maybe is a reformed badass, but she works in an office all day and is fairly domestic. But also kind of a badass. And she makes art too, seems really imaginative and/or creative in general. Hard to explain. Either way, I think I’ve made a new friend. If we were to happen to make out sometime, I would probably be into that as well, but whatever.

Exhibit A.

I have been having a lot of weird feelings lately. I think, now that I’ve got a date set for vasectomization, the forces that be… whatever. They are dangling weird omens in my face, like “look at how cute this fucking kid is” and “that pregnant woman is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a long time” kind of shit! Some crazy baby was on the bus. Not a baby. 2 or 3 or 4 years old or something. His mother and her friend were attractive black women dressed for a 900 degree day in Late July in New York. And they were yappin’ back and forth the whole time, while I sat there in my headphones listening to The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust. Loudly loudly (I think I might be fucking up my ears but the music is sometimes too good to be quiet). But this little fucking adorable child, he looked like fucking Webster in the first season of Webster(See Exhibit A.)!! And he’s walking all up and down the aisle in the back few seats of the bus where we were all sitting. And the little bastard comes and sits down next to me. Looks me over. Grabs my left wrist and twists it a bit so he can see my tattoo. Asks me a question that I can’t understand because I don’t ever really know what 3 year olds are talking about. And the mother and her friend were ignoring this exchange between their tiny baby and the creepy white guy on the bus. And then he starts pointing to my earphones. He wants to listen to whatever it is I have going on in there. I wanted to give him a listen to Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide, but it was loud and I didn’t want to traumatize him, and I certainly didn’t want to turn it down. And then he just put his hand on my hand for a few seconds, and looked at me with a mad twinkle in his eye. This child will one day be a world famous explorer of inner and outer space. He just looked like he was crazy, but smarter than he was letting on. Or something. Basically, this experience made me want to impregnate beautiful black women. I guess beautiful women in general. I just… I have more stories, but this it too long already, about the whole thing. But yes, getting neutered on August 3rd, and now there are strange goings-on.

ANYWAY. I think I’m gonna hang with hot tattoo artist chick this week. Maybe? We talked about it briefly, which was surprising. Well I sent her a creepy text message first, really I just told her I miss her, but I felt really weird about saying that. Anyway, she wants to hang. Which I’m happy about. I do overthink a lot, not constantly on everything, but I just overthought the whole thing with her. Really, she’s pretty nice and fun to hang out with and I do find her quite sexy and all. So. Whatever. But, no, I did not like the idea of like… not seeing her again ever? And anyway, so that’s cool. I think, anyway. Fuck you. Haha.

Portland, Portland, Portland. I am not saving enough money. But I guess we’re gonna start talking about this promotion thing at work in a couple days. I’d really like it if I could make MUCH better money for the next couple of months. I want to leave for PDX in less then three months from today. I can’t survive and save on what they’re paying me now. I’d like to start this thing (some management training program that will make me $16 an hour), or something, anything else. I am hating my current job, have been for a few weeks now. So a change is welcome. And so is more fucking money.

I don’t know what else. There was definitely more. But I’m spent for now. And I’ve got emails to catch up on and I’m supposed to be trying to write songs. I’m not doing anything besides working and sleeping and drinking and talking to people. To be honest, there was a time early in the week where I thought I was closing in on a nervous breakdown or at least a very bad fit of depression. I am kinda fighting it off, but. It’s rough right now.

I’m having a hard time with being on Long Island. I do hate it here. I love my family and the few friends that I see. But it’s enough for me already. It’s just really hard to hear the racism every day, and it’s hard to have a job that makes you realise that people here still buy Spam and like… disgusting shit on a regular basis. The racism though, it’s fucking killing me. And the drama of East Coast people. I just feel so digusted, and I want to scream on people all day long, and belittle them and ruin their day. I’d never do this, but it’s very difficult to have these thoughts on my brain all day every day. I don’t know how to relax. I’m working on it though. I’ll be okay, soon enough I think.

But. I have to stop, dont you think? I’ve already written too much stuff here. I don’t want to bore anyone. So, Maybe I will elaborate at another time, or try to remember more of the stories and ideas that have been kicking around. Ah, I recorded a pretty nice cover song and I can post that soon too. And I just can’t think anymore. So. LAME.


About R. Spacely

This entry was posted in Going Home, Music, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Time is a matter of fact, it’s gone and it’ll never come back.

  1. Um. Why are you having a vaasectomy?

  2. Mom says:

    Meeting a girl you like and noticing how interesting children are in one week, God is talking to you (on the bus). You should listen, he always knows what he’s talking about.

    • I don’t believe in a God that has time to meddle in the day-to-day affairs of humankind. But yeah, I pay attention to (and hopefully learn from) my surroundings. This experience tells me that I should probably someday adopt a tiny Haitian child with tons of attitude and curiosity. And to be fair, I meet girls I like every week.

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