Well fuck it. This booze isn't even making me feel drunk.
What a fucking lame night. I mean, the best conversation I had was about how everything sucks now and used to be better when we were kids, with some random person I don't have a ton of interest in ever talking to again. I have one beer left. The wine is gone, the vodka's gone, and the shit, super sweet whiskey is super shit.
I think I'm gonna ride my bike down to the beach after all. Waterbottle of this shit whiskey, and the fucking beer, I guess. Maybe I'll meet someone interesting. It happens. Shame the water is so fucking cold.
Shame everything is so fucking cold sometimes.
28.4.18
Man, you know what I actually really need?
I need a big old bottle of T1s and a screwdriver.
That fixes shit well enough more often than not, and worst comes to worst, I'll just fall asleep for a bit and wake up tomorrow, maybe feeling more like I want to be alive.
Shame I don't have ten fucking dollars anymore. I need to go collect my money from the neighbors tomorrow. It's been a few months and I'm betting I could knock myself right on my ass quite satisfactorily.
Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.
I need a big old bottle of T1s and a screwdriver.
That fixes shit well enough more often than not, and worst comes to worst, I'll just fall asleep for a bit and wake up tomorrow, maybe feeling more like I want to be alive.
Shame I don't have ten fucking dollars anymore. I need to go collect my money from the neighbors tomorrow. It's been a few months and I'm betting I could knock myself right on my ass quite satisfactorily.
Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.
Right, so.
I think that was indeed a good example. Me having dated two friends really doesn't seem horribly relevant to me, and, perhaps it's simply due to that, but I have trouble seeing it as relevant to you.
It's just a lack of interest in that sense. Which, hey, I'm good with. It might shock you to know that that some kind of romance isn't really my motivation here, or why I'm interested in talking to you. It's a pretty thought, but not a realistic one. If I had a dime for every pretty thought out there, I really could spend the rest of my life drunk. I don't, but I'm still pretty good with things remaining like that.
But I think as an example, it illustrates my point pretty well. I get pretty old, pretty quick. There's a certain sort of person that I'm simply never going to have much luck with.
But I really don't feel like talking about that. I've talked about enough shitty things tonight. And like, what's the point? Rehashing shit I already know about myself, telling it to someone else in the hopes of what? Like, what's the ideal end game with something like that? Who gains anything?
What's the point of rehashing it all here? I've spent 20 years knowing what the deal is here. I know the score, yo.
I'm not sure getting drunk is going to do much to cheer me up this evening. I don't know what would. I think I'm gonna get fucked up and go ride my bike until I puke.
I think that was indeed a good example. Me having dated two friends really doesn't seem horribly relevant to me, and, perhaps it's simply due to that, but I have trouble seeing it as relevant to you.
It's just a lack of interest in that sense. Which, hey, I'm good with. It might shock you to know that that some kind of romance isn't really my motivation here, or why I'm interested in talking to you. It's a pretty thought, but not a realistic one. If I had a dime for every pretty thought out there, I really could spend the rest of my life drunk. I don't, but I'm still pretty good with things remaining like that.
But I think as an example, it illustrates my point pretty well. I get pretty old, pretty quick. There's a certain sort of person that I'm simply never going to have much luck with.
But I really don't feel like talking about that. I've talked about enough shitty things tonight. And like, what's the point? Rehashing shit I already know about myself, telling it to someone else in the hopes of what? Like, what's the ideal end game with something like that? Who gains anything?
What's the point of rehashing it all here? I've spent 20 years knowing what the deal is here. I know the score, yo.
I'm not sure getting drunk is going to do much to cheer me up this evening. I don't know what would. I think I'm gonna get fucked up and go ride my bike until I puke.
27.4.18
Have you ever talked to someone, and wondered if they are actually a real person, or obsequious to the point that they seem unbelievably real?
Like.
I don't know. I'm off balance right now, and that's incredibly rare.
But if you're real, if this is how you see life, if this is how you feel and react and just.... if this is how things are for you, I'm so very, very glad to count you as someone who is in my life.
I don't know.
This one is about you, dear perhaps reader.
Like.
I don't know. I'm off balance right now, and that's incredibly rare.
But if you're real, if this is how you see life, if this is how you feel and react and just.... if this is how things are for you, I'm so very, very glad to count you as someone who is in my life.
I don't know.
This one is about you, dear perhaps reader.
26.4.18
 |
| Ayyy it's april and 27 above |
I'm fucking exhausted. I'm about to get pretty smashed, but I think I've earned it. And I also made the mistake of drinking with my new Portuguese buddy at like 3 PM, a bunch of lame craft beer, so I'm pretty sure I'm slightly hungover. One of the beers was called Nut Dark, which sounded to me like tanning solution for your testes. It was pretty shit.I've been pretty less than positive on this thing lately. I think it's more interesting to read, but it's also kind of depressing.
So some good things about life before I go get drunk and rant about crap:
It's beautiful here. Like, so, so sunny, all the time.
I did get a job. Nothing fancy, which is how I wanted it. But I think it's very well thought out in terms of my pseudo-long term plan.
I can get anywhere by bike, and there's lots of good places to go. Today I went to the beach and made friends with this really chill duck. He just kinda stood around next to me while I sat and listened to music.
It really is always beautiful here. I've been riding the bike around a lot, and going to the beach alot. The one picture up there is from last night. I stopped, had a smoke and a beer, and talked to this very nice homeless lady. We had an interesting conversation about.... well, she had an interesting conversation about something. Then she invited me to live with her. I declined, but it was nice to think I made the lonely homeless person a little less lonely for a little bit.
Anyway, that's all the positive thinking I can do for the moment. Shortly, I'll be drunk, and you can bet I'll be back.
22.4.18
Kisses, and the stars in your eyes.
OH MY FUCKING LORD.
So yeah, some things never change.
You, of all people, show up in my messages, and start asking about things that were put to rest a decade ago.
Fuck off, dude. I literally JUST started the director's cut thing on the blog, and spent like all of yesterday correcting myself on how much you've changed, and you're here fucking around and trying to get me to validate you behind your boyfriend's back. That's not my job anymore, and it's not something I'm huge on doing either.
AND NOW I'M DOING IT ANYWAY. WHAT THE FUCK.
Though to be honest, this has perked me up. I mean, it's obviously just crescendo time, but hey.
So I'm going to turn this around on you, yo. If you wanna talk about a bunch of super intense shit that hasn't mattered for years, and act like there was some point or meaning there, while I'm coincidentally writing about how nothing has fucking changed, you can tell me about how you deal with nothing having fucking changed for you either.
Oh man. Miss me with that soulmates shit. Maybe the joke is kinda over for me? It *is* still a joke, no? You reeally want to get into that? You reeeally don't think that's maybe something we should have outgrown?
Here you go then, have my soul.
And then try to find an appropriate response to it. Because you know me so well, you truly do. And you know that there isn't going to be a response you can provide that works.
But I'll give you credit where it's due - you did pretty good, even if we both know it's meaningless. The meaning doesn't matter. Maybe I was right after all in saying you've changed a bit.
Either way, despite the shock and shudder that I initially felt, I wish nothing but the best for you, luv. Me? Well, I'm just going to fall in love and die every minute of every day.
So yeah, some things never change.
You, of all people, show up in my messages, and start asking about things that were put to rest a decade ago.
Fuck off, dude. I literally JUST started the director's cut thing on the blog, and spent like all of yesterday correcting myself on how much you've changed, and you're here fucking around and trying to get me to validate you behind your boyfriend's back. That's not my job anymore, and it's not something I'm huge on doing either.
AND NOW I'M DOING IT ANYWAY. WHAT THE FUCK.
Though to be honest, this has perked me up. I mean, it's obviously just crescendo time, but hey.
So I'm going to turn this around on you, yo. If you wanna talk about a bunch of super intense shit that hasn't mattered for years, and act like there was some point or meaning there, while I'm coincidentally writing about how nothing has fucking changed, you can tell me about how you deal with nothing having fucking changed for you either.
Oh man. Miss me with that soulmates shit. Maybe the joke is kinda over for me? It *is* still a joke, no? You reeally want to get into that? You reeeally don't think that's maybe something we should have outgrown?
Here you go then, have my soul.
And then try to find an appropriate response to it. Because you know me so well, you truly do. And you know that there isn't going to be a response you can provide that works.
But I'll give you credit where it's due - you did pretty good, even if we both know it's meaningless. The meaning doesn't matter. Maybe I was right after all in saying you've changed a bit.
Either way, despite the shock and shudder that I initially felt, I wish nothing but the best for you, luv. Me? Well, I'm just going to fall in love and die every minute of every day.
All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in the rain.
Anyway, different frustration. Since that's what I'm full of tonight.
You know what's pretty fucking goofy?
For all that's changed, nothing really has.
When I was a kid, I would sit alone in my room for hours, hiding from reality. Getting drunk and writing, and listening to music and staying up late. Consuming whatever was around me, wine, and vodka, and just utterly pointless knowledge, trying to just slow my brain the fuck down and bury myself in a warm layer of dissociation.
Now I'm just about thirty, and what am I doing? I'm sitting alone in my room, hiding from reality. Getting drunk and writing, listening to music and staying up late. Consuming whatever is around me, even if it's awful rum, and even more pointless knowledge, even though I know none of this actually fucking works. It's even pretty much the same fucking music.
But what else do I do, dear reader? I can't just go through "the motions", so I created my own movement, and I go through that instead.
This is the beginning, the build. I sit, and I sip, and I absorb. I chase the feeling, that wonderful feeling that tells me things I already know - everything, of course, will be ok, because it's not that bad. It's been 28 years of not that bad, and it will probably be another 28. And that's not that bad.
Soon, the second movement comes. It's not that feeling, because that isn't how this works anymore, and no matter what I consume, it simply never works like t
No, that's not true.
The happiest night in memory was when I found something stronger, and it did work. Disgustingly so.
But ignore that. It's a story for another time. This, this never works. But the feeling still builds, and the music flows through me. The world is poetry, soon enough. And comes a creshendo where I ask myself
Why can't I just do this all the time?
And you know, I still don't have an answer to that. There's worse ways to be.
My reality is simply that. I know it can be modified, and I work towards the modifications that will bring me fulfillment. But the simple truth of this, my simple, irrepressible truth, is that nothing will compare to this.
I have experienced so much. Things that I know most others will never dream of. Stars fighting on the shoulders of Orion, so to speak. I have done so much. I have lived.
But none of it compares. I'd rather spend every minute, of every day, of the rest of my time, be it finite and ending, or stretching beyond the realms of imagination and knowledge, doing exactly what I'm doing right now.
And as the poetry climaxes, as this crescendo falls around me, I know that this is how it should be. This is the ultimate. The magnum opus of my life is contained within this glass, and though it should be horrific, a waste, a sad reality rather than a thing of ecstasy, it simply isn't. That's the perception of others. That's the expectation of those around me. That is not the reality for me.
But then comes the
Well, the part where I get distracted and lose interest in writing. Some things really never do change.
But you know, I'm in this beautiful place. There is that.
I think I'm going to finish this rum, go down to the beach, and look at the stars.
You know what's pretty fucking goofy?
For all that's changed, nothing really has.
When I was a kid, I would sit alone in my room for hours, hiding from reality. Getting drunk and writing, and listening to music and staying up late. Consuming whatever was around me, wine, and vodka, and just utterly pointless knowledge, trying to just slow my brain the fuck down and bury myself in a warm layer of dissociation.
Now I'm just about thirty, and what am I doing? I'm sitting alone in my room, hiding from reality. Getting drunk and writing, listening to music and staying up late. Consuming whatever is around me, even if it's awful rum, and even more pointless knowledge, even though I know none of this actually fucking works. It's even pretty much the same fucking music.
But what else do I do, dear reader? I can't just go through "the motions", so I created my own movement, and I go through that instead.
This is the beginning, the build. I sit, and I sip, and I absorb. I chase the feeling, that wonderful feeling that tells me things I already know - everything, of course, will be ok, because it's not that bad. It's been 28 years of not that bad, and it will probably be another 28. And that's not that bad.
Soon, the second movement comes. It's not that feeling, because that isn't how this works anymore, and no matter what I consume, it simply never works like t
No, that's not true.
The happiest night in memory was when I found something stronger, and it did work. Disgustingly so.
But ignore that. It's a story for another time. This, this never works. But the feeling still builds, and the music flows through me. The world is poetry, soon enough. And comes a creshendo where I ask myself
Why can't I just do this all the time?
And you know, I still don't have an answer to that. There's worse ways to be.
My reality is simply that. I know it can be modified, and I work towards the modifications that will bring me fulfillment. But the simple truth of this, my simple, irrepressible truth, is that nothing will compare to this.
I have experienced so much. Things that I know most others will never dream of. Stars fighting on the shoulders of Orion, so to speak. I have done so much. I have lived.
But none of it compares. I'd rather spend every minute, of every day, of the rest of my time, be it finite and ending, or stretching beyond the realms of imagination and knowledge, doing exactly what I'm doing right now.
And as the poetry climaxes, as this crescendo falls around me, I know that this is how it should be. This is the ultimate. The magnum opus of my life is contained within this glass, and though it should be horrific, a waste, a sad reality rather than a thing of ecstasy, it simply isn't. That's the perception of others. That's the expectation of those around me. That is not the reality for me.
But then comes the
Well, the part where I get distracted and lose interest in writing. Some things really never do change.
But you know, I'm in this beautiful place. There is that.
I think I'm going to finish this rum, go down to the beach, and look at the stars.
21.4.18
Like some junkie cosmonaut
I am angry, and I think I'm gonna get just ripped.
I shouldn't have decided to drink a few days ago. It's been on my mind persistently since then. Usually, or rather, recently, that hasn't really been a problem - on the typically rare occasion I do drink, I don't really feel a requirement to repeat soon afterwards.
But for the last few days, it's all I can think about.
I don't really want to be angry, but I don't have anything else to replace it with. I don't really want to be trapped in the tedium that permeates this place either, but hey, same deal. So I'm thinking drunk it is.
"But why are you angry?" you say.
Because I don't really know what else to do.
I finally heard from my lady love tonight, after messaging her again. I said I was worried about her, which is mostly true - obviously, despite my detachment, I'm a little concerned with her just dropping off the map. I'm not sure that it's really because I care what she's doing - I lean more towards it just seeming like things are a waste of my time.
Which seems counter-intuitive. What else would I be doing with my time?
So time is maybe the wrong word here. It seems more like all the time (yes, sure), effort, and money I've put into this is pretty much for nothing.
And it's seemed that way a lot. Someone asked if her disappearing was a normal thing - it really is, even when we lived together. She'd just vanish for a few days, and present a bunch of half-true excuses for it that never really added up when she came back. I'm not sure how I expected things to play out any differently now.
Anyway, she messaged back almost instantly, and was upset that I was worried about her. Don't get me wrong, I think it was a pretty non-aggressive "I'm worried about you" message I sent her - nothing veiled or angry about it, just a "hey, are you dead" kind of thing.
"I thought we agreed not to get upset or worried if one of us disappeared for a while." was the summation of her issue.
Massively frustrating, because no, we kind of agreed we'd try to talk at least once a day so that we didn't just drift apart, as is apt to happen with these kinds of things. That we even had to agree to do so is sort of a bad sign - there's people out there that neither of us have an interest (or at least an admitted interest, depending on how you want to look at it, I guess) in that we both enjoy talking to daily. I'd like to think if everything is as it should be, your significant other is going to be someone you want to talk to all the time.
Instead, it feels like it's just been a stupid, mountainous battle to keep in touch.
Anyway, I finally get this reply, and then she goes to have a smoke for 45 minutes, and I say "well, I think I'm off to bed, hope you have a good night, maybe talk to you soon" because I don't really know what else to say. She responded a minute ago, and I'm 100% it's going to be something about how I shouldn't be annoyed and a 45 minute break in an important relationship conversation is a normal thing that usually leaves everyone feeling as though they don't need to be worried about everything.
And now I'm left wondering what the hell to do. Do I just say "you know, I have some serious issues with this"? Do I go back on there and read whatever message she's sent about how I should have no interest in why she's acting so distant and uninterested? Do I just act petty and not go on facebook to reply to her for a few days? Like, what's the win scenario here?
What I'd like to do is be able to calmly address the problem and talk it out, but I *know* that doesn't work, because it never worked in person. I had to do the "dude, if you keep just disappearing and having these weird, secretive conversations, and whatever, I'm going to dump you" thing, which is just pathetic. And then I had to hear about how horrible ultimatums are and how she doesn't respond to them.
The whole thing is just exhausting me. I was just about to start listing all the sketchy aspects of all this, but no, that's even more exhausting, so I won't.
Someone also asked why I keep her around. It's not really unfair wording. Or at least it sure doesn't feel that way at the moment.
I've been thinking about it. I think my response at the time was fairly accurate - I've given up on a lot of people who tried very hard. I've been unworthy of any effort for a lot of my life. I've thrown a lot of things away. So now, pathologically, I can't even throw something away that might be the right thing to get rid of.
There's always a dark little doubt - what if, counter to all logic, everything is completely legit?
But there's more. Like:
Why should my happiness come before someone else's, especially when that person is literally incapable of doing such things on their own?
What if I'm just being paranoid?
What if there's some far ranging consequence to making the wrong move here?
And
What do I do next, then?
I don't want to meet another person. I think I have a lot to give, these days. Maybe I also want a lot - it's hard to be objective about something like that - but I think that with the right person, I could easily return the favor in giving them the things they need from a relationship. I am willing to go a pretty far distance and put in a lot of effort, and I've proven that to myself with people like my current lady, and my ex-wife, and so on.
My vision is projected through a mirror, darkly, but I don't see the issues here really having anything to do with me, much like I don't think the issues in the last relationship had to do with me. There are some diagnosed, or diagnosable instabilities with these people, and I think a third party looking at the situation would have trouble not understanding why I'm feeling this way.
The advice literally everyone will give is "take a break, be by yourself for a while."
It's not bad advice, and it's well meaning, and I appreciate that people are willing to take the time to offer such a thing. But it just doesn't work for me.
I don't have people in my life, in general. I never have. When I was younger, it was because I was pretty terrible to be around. Now it's because I don't know how to gain the right kind of people. I'm weird and not good at being social on a meaningful, connective level. It's just the reality - yeah, I can bullshit with people pretty well, and just the right amount of alcohol makes me come across as a pretty fun person, and I can certainly act like everyone's friend in a sales capacity, but I'm just not capable of connecting right in a way that counts.
I don't attract the kinds of people I want to attract. I don't just mean in a relationship way, I'm speaking in general. There's no one out there who is excited to visit with me, or considers me a close friend, or to whom I'm actually all that interesting beyond being something of a curiosity.
I get that there's perhaps readers here again that would disagree with that, but I don't mean it harshly or bitterly or as
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hAFuD-S-e_E&index=6&list=RDTDkhl-CgETg
That comes on as I write this. Man, there's my sign for today, eh?
Anyway, I don't mean it as something that's an issue. I get it, and I appreciate that both of you have been in my life in the capacity you guys have, dear readers. You are good people, patient and tolerant and kind and beautiful in the way that actually means something. I'm glad that I get to have people like you in my life, and I'm even more glad that both of you have been a constant in that regard.
But you can't say that's not exactly true, and that's ok. It's just who I am, and how I am, and I completely understand it. I know who I am, and I know why I'm that way, and honestly, with some exceptions (I'd like to think you guys fit the bill), I get that it generally makes people incredibly uncomfortable. Even within this post, I get that it's weird and unusual to proclaim such an appreciation when it's probably not something that's completely normal in relatively casual friendships. I'm not saying this sort of thing in in an effort to change that dynamic by any means. No one has a commitment to fix me feeling like this, and no one has a commitment to fix me. I don't think anyone can, including myself, and I'm sure that knowing me, it seems pretty plausible that I would be bitter or angry or whatever, and wanting to blame someone else for it. But I don't, and that's not it - it's no one's fault, it's just the reality. It's just how I'm wired.
But I am saying it to try to illustrate a point.
I don't have people in my life, I don't know how to get people in my life, and at this, point, I'm not sure I even really want more people in my life. At least not in the romantic relationship part of it - I don't know how to get the kinds of people I'd actually enjoy, and I am so, so tired of pulling things together all the time for people I don't enjoy.
"But wait," you say, "Isn't that just saying that yes, you should be alone for a while?"
I don't think so. I don't think that's how this works for me.
If I stop just crashing forward through this forest, I'm going to lose the trail. I'm going to forget how to find it. I have so much trouble relating and conversing and just being human as it is, and I know that if I don't keep pushing forward regardless of the results, I'm going to stop being able to do that some day.
Maybe I'll write a post up about my real mom some time. That's what happened to her, so it seems relevant. She's not the reason it's happening to me (I fucked her over long ago and we don't talk anymore), but I recognize that embittered, inhuman aspect inside of her, and I can see all too easily how she got there.
I'd like to end on a higher note - I get to see my number one girl, the best thing in my life, in a couple days. But unfortunately, I'm on the tangent of family now, and I can't help but wonder if she's going to turn out like the rest of us fuckups when she grows up.
At least I'm less angry now. I think I'm still going to go get drunk though.
I shouldn't have decided to drink a few days ago. It's been on my mind persistently since then. Usually, or rather, recently, that hasn't really been a problem - on the typically rare occasion I do drink, I don't really feel a requirement to repeat soon afterwards.
But for the last few days, it's all I can think about.
I don't really want to be angry, but I don't have anything else to replace it with. I don't really want to be trapped in the tedium that permeates this place either, but hey, same deal. So I'm thinking drunk it is.
"But why are you angry?" you say.
Because I don't really know what else to do.
I finally heard from my lady love tonight, after messaging her again. I said I was worried about her, which is mostly true - obviously, despite my detachment, I'm a little concerned with her just dropping off the map. I'm not sure that it's really because I care what she's doing - I lean more towards it just seeming like things are a waste of my time.
Which seems counter-intuitive. What else would I be doing with my time?
So time is maybe the wrong word here. It seems more like all the time (yes, sure), effort, and money I've put into this is pretty much for nothing.
And it's seemed that way a lot. Someone asked if her disappearing was a normal thing - it really is, even when we lived together. She'd just vanish for a few days, and present a bunch of half-true excuses for it that never really added up when she came back. I'm not sure how I expected things to play out any differently now.
Anyway, she messaged back almost instantly, and was upset that I was worried about her. Don't get me wrong, I think it was a pretty non-aggressive "I'm worried about you" message I sent her - nothing veiled or angry about it, just a "hey, are you dead" kind of thing.
"I thought we agreed not to get upset or worried if one of us disappeared for a while." was the summation of her issue.
Massively frustrating, because no, we kind of agreed we'd try to talk at least once a day so that we didn't just drift apart, as is apt to happen with these kinds of things. That we even had to agree to do so is sort of a bad sign - there's people out there that neither of us have an interest (or at least an admitted interest, depending on how you want to look at it, I guess) in that we both enjoy talking to daily. I'd like to think if everything is as it should be, your significant other is going to be someone you want to talk to all the time.
Instead, it feels like it's just been a stupid, mountainous battle to keep in touch.
Anyway, I finally get this reply, and then she goes to have a smoke for 45 minutes, and I say "well, I think I'm off to bed, hope you have a good night, maybe talk to you soon" because I don't really know what else to say. She responded a minute ago, and I'm 100% it's going to be something about how I shouldn't be annoyed and a 45 minute break in an important relationship conversation is a normal thing that usually leaves everyone feeling as though they don't need to be worried about everything.
And now I'm left wondering what the hell to do. Do I just say "you know, I have some serious issues with this"? Do I go back on there and read whatever message she's sent about how I should have no interest in why she's acting so distant and uninterested? Do I just act petty and not go on facebook to reply to her for a few days? Like, what's the win scenario here?
What I'd like to do is be able to calmly address the problem and talk it out, but I *know* that doesn't work, because it never worked in person. I had to do the "dude, if you keep just disappearing and having these weird, secretive conversations, and whatever, I'm going to dump you" thing, which is just pathetic. And then I had to hear about how horrible ultimatums are and how she doesn't respond to them.
The whole thing is just exhausting me. I was just about to start listing all the sketchy aspects of all this, but no, that's even more exhausting, so I won't.
Someone also asked why I keep her around. It's not really unfair wording. Or at least it sure doesn't feel that way at the moment.
I've been thinking about it. I think my response at the time was fairly accurate - I've given up on a lot of people who tried very hard. I've been unworthy of any effort for a lot of my life. I've thrown a lot of things away. So now, pathologically, I can't even throw something away that might be the right thing to get rid of.
There's always a dark little doubt - what if, counter to all logic, everything is completely legit?
But there's more. Like:
Why should my happiness come before someone else's, especially when that person is literally incapable of doing such things on their own?
What if I'm just being paranoid?
What if there's some far ranging consequence to making the wrong move here?
And
What do I do next, then?
I don't want to meet another person. I think I have a lot to give, these days. Maybe I also want a lot - it's hard to be objective about something like that - but I think that with the right person, I could easily return the favor in giving them the things they need from a relationship. I am willing to go a pretty far distance and put in a lot of effort, and I've proven that to myself with people like my current lady, and my ex-wife, and so on.
My vision is projected through a mirror, darkly, but I don't see the issues here really having anything to do with me, much like I don't think the issues in the last relationship had to do with me. There are some diagnosed, or diagnosable instabilities with these people, and I think a third party looking at the situation would have trouble not understanding why I'm feeling this way.
The advice literally everyone will give is "take a break, be by yourself for a while."
It's not bad advice, and it's well meaning, and I appreciate that people are willing to take the time to offer such a thing. But it just doesn't work for me.
I don't have people in my life, in general. I never have. When I was younger, it was because I was pretty terrible to be around. Now it's because I don't know how to gain the right kind of people. I'm weird and not good at being social on a meaningful, connective level. It's just the reality - yeah, I can bullshit with people pretty well, and just the right amount of alcohol makes me come across as a pretty fun person, and I can certainly act like everyone's friend in a sales capacity, but I'm just not capable of connecting right in a way that counts.
I don't attract the kinds of people I want to attract. I don't just mean in a relationship way, I'm speaking in general. There's no one out there who is excited to visit with me, or considers me a close friend, or to whom I'm actually all that interesting beyond being something of a curiosity.
I get that there's perhaps readers here again that would disagree with that, but I don't mean it harshly or bitterly or as
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hAFuD-S-e_E&index=6&list=RDTDkhl-CgETg
That comes on as I write this. Man, there's my sign for today, eh?
Anyway, I don't mean it as something that's an issue. I get it, and I appreciate that both of you have been in my life in the capacity you guys have, dear readers. You are good people, patient and tolerant and kind and beautiful in the way that actually means something. I'm glad that I get to have people like you in my life, and I'm even more glad that both of you have been a constant in that regard.
But you can't say that's not exactly true, and that's ok. It's just who I am, and how I am, and I completely understand it. I know who I am, and I know why I'm that way, and honestly, with some exceptions (I'd like to think you guys fit the bill), I get that it generally makes people incredibly uncomfortable. Even within this post, I get that it's weird and unusual to proclaim such an appreciation when it's probably not something that's completely normal in relatively casual friendships. I'm not saying this sort of thing in in an effort to change that dynamic by any means. No one has a commitment to fix me feeling like this, and no one has a commitment to fix me. I don't think anyone can, including myself, and I'm sure that knowing me, it seems pretty plausible that I would be bitter or angry or whatever, and wanting to blame someone else for it. But I don't, and that's not it - it's no one's fault, it's just the reality. It's just how I'm wired.
But I am saying it to try to illustrate a point.
I don't have people in my life, I don't know how to get people in my life, and at this, point, I'm not sure I even really want more people in my life. At least not in the romantic relationship part of it - I don't know how to get the kinds of people I'd actually enjoy, and I am so, so tired of pulling things together all the time for people I don't enjoy.
"But wait," you say, "Isn't that just saying that yes, you should be alone for a while?"
I don't think so. I don't think that's how this works for me.
If I stop just crashing forward through this forest, I'm going to lose the trail. I'm going to forget how to find it. I have so much trouble relating and conversing and just being human as it is, and I know that if I don't keep pushing forward regardless of the results, I'm going to stop being able to do that some day.
Maybe I'll write a post up about my real mom some time. That's what happened to her, so it seems relevant. She's not the reason it's happening to me (I fucked her over long ago and we don't talk anymore), but I recognize that embittered, inhuman aspect inside of her, and I can see all too easily how she got there.
I'd like to end on a higher note - I get to see my number one girl, the best thing in my life, in a couple days. But unfortunately, I'm on the tangent of family now, and I can't help but wonder if she's going to turn out like the rest of us fuckups when she grows up.
At least I'm less angry now. I think I'm still going to go get drunk though.
20.4.18
Oh well. I got to contribute to supper tonight, so I'm making my utter favorite.
I don't know what it's actually called, but we call it Japanese chicken. It's utterly terrible for you, being mostly brown sugar and soy sauce, but it's something everyone likes enough that I got no grief. Still have to pair it with weird purple rice, but hey.
I think I'd take the chicken over having some awkward conversation with someone who doesn't seem that interested anymore, anyway.
19.4.18
They don't love you like I love you
Today's actually been a bit of a bummer in the general.
I've been doing too much thinking lately, I think.
Oh well. I think the current issue is self resolving. I was right a couple months ago when I decided things will take care of themselves. I've got enough other things to do to be worrying about this kinda stuff, and I'm just... I'm just not interested in worrying about it anymore.
I have distance, in many ways. I have distance enough to not be too bothered, and I should take advantage of that. My future is here, not having a part of me trapped somewhere else. I'm not going to rush to free that up, but if that's what ends up happening, then I don't think it's going to be the end of the world either.
I need one of them tattoo'd animal shelter chicks who cries about how mean people are to ants or something. A radical shift in the exact opposite direction things have been.
Not really, but. Blah.
Anyway.
A frustration about this place, which is more germane - I'm going to go utterly fucking bonkers living with my parents.
I appreciate that they're letting me stay here, and aren't charging interests on loans, and are generally helping me handle my shit. It takes quite a bit of the load off. BUT THEY DRIVE ME NUTS.
I've been trying to cook, for example. I planned out to make spaghetti, because it's super simple, and I do it super well, and I can make enough to feed the six other people who are here for supper on Thursdays. So I go and buy all the spaghetti stuff.
But then it turns out that everyone can't make it tonight, so we're doing supper with them tomorrow night. Which is less work for me, so hey. But mom wants to make spaghetti tomorrow night, so I can't do it tonight.
So I decide hey, I'll make some toscino. If you haven't had it, it's kinda like philipino bacon - right after Sarah and I split up, I decided to buy some because it's this super appealing red color. It turns out it's also very easy to fry up, and super tasty.
So I went and got that, and some white rice, and some celery and stuff, as it's supposed to be a nice, light, refreshing meal.
BUT. Turns out that that's far too unhealthy for these guys. So, no white rice, because the toscino is apparently bad enough. And then, no celery and lettuce, because we have leftover veggies from forever ago.
Instead, here's what I got to do:
Best part is that I was so busy trying to defend my veggies and non-purple rice that I burned the fucking meat, the only part I was at all interested in.
It's a little frustrating.
It's all been a little frustrating lately. I don't really know what else to say right now.
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1sZKP6h41MQ" frameborder="0" allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Apparently you just can't imbed that sumbitch on blogger for some reason anymore without writing the whole post in HTML. Which I'm not doing tonight, I don't think.
I guess someone maybe reads this again, so I was thinking I should post.
Then I realized I don't actually have much to say right now. As I haven't for a while, apparently.
But.
BUT!
But, dear reader(s?), what this motherfucker needs isn't new posts. No, it needs that Spielberg shit. It needs that Oliver Stone shit. It needs the re-release, better than before, director treatment.
You got it, it's time for....
Then I realized I don't actually have much to say right now. As I haven't for a while, apparently.
But.
BUT!
But, dear reader(s?), what this motherfucker needs isn't new posts. No, it needs that Spielberg shit. It needs that Oliver Stone shit. It needs the re-release, better than before, director treatment.
You got it, it's time for....
BARFLIES AT THE BEACH
Director's Cut: Round Three
Director's Cut: Round Three
In case you don't know what that is, which I expect you don't if you're just tuning in now, or, realistically, even if you've been here from day one:
Once ever few years I go back to the early days, when my bloggery was naught but that of a wee, exceptionally angry laddy, and I add a commentary to all the posts laughing at what a superb fucking nob I was whenever I wrote the post. You can see this in the comments.
I don't think I've ever gotten more than a year or so done before losing interest, and I always start at the very start, but I'm thinking it's maybe that time again.
I might also go through the couple hundred posts that were never finished or posted, and edit them until they're worth posting. It would be nice to start writing again, and this all seems like as good an excuse as any.
I also noticed, while reading back through this here and there, that I really, really need to not have Alana posts on here or anywhere ever. The "funny" story is, as my former dear reader summarized, kind of "holy fuck", and the latter story is nearly felonious. If I'm going to write about things that make me feel like a pile of trash to re-read, it should at least be things that had some kind of point or that I was the sole party to - her being massively fucked in the head isn't something I can go back and change. Neither is me running along with it, but I simply have enough bad memories as it sits.
All that aside, I think it will maybe be nice to start writing some more, regardless of if anyone ever ends up reading this. Wasn't ever really the point anyway.
Once ever few years I go back to the early days, when my bloggery was naught but that of a wee, exceptionally angry laddy, and I add a commentary to all the posts laughing at what a superb fucking nob I was whenever I wrote the post. You can see this in the comments.
I don't think I've ever gotten more than a year or so done before losing interest, and I always start at the very start, but I'm thinking it's maybe that time again.
I might also go through the couple hundred posts that were never finished or posted, and edit them until they're worth posting. It would be nice to start writing again, and this all seems like as good an excuse as any.
I also noticed, while reading back through this here and there, that I really, really need to not have Alana posts on here or anywhere ever. The "funny" story is, as my former dear reader summarized, kind of "holy fuck", and the latter story is nearly felonious. If I'm going to write about things that make me feel like a pile of trash to re-read, it should at least be things that had some kind of point or that I was the sole party to - her being massively fucked in the head isn't something I can go back and change. Neither is me running along with it, but I simply have enough bad memories as it sits.
All that aside, I think it will maybe be nice to start writing some more, regardless of if anyone ever ends up reading this. Wasn't ever really the point anyway.
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