i'm birthday!

i just had a bday yesterday. yaya. i ate pies and got drunk on a schoolnight. fun, and got some random chick's phone number with my "birthday courage" at its peak. livin in park slope you usually can't find a good party on a weeknight so it was up to the burg as things like that ususallyauauaully require.

how am i doing? i don't know. i'm getting lazier by the minute i fear. today was a good day, though, i got shit done and fucked up other shit. oh and i threw my shake weed down the toilet hole and deleted my shake weed dealer from phone. sad day. but happy. i can't have skanky skank weed around because no one will smoke it with me. they all like "good weed" or whatever. my attitude is it's all the fucking same. which is why i buy shitty weed. but tell that to potheads i geuss: your ewed is so like other weeds! there is NO GOOD WEED! haha.

so i guess i'm taking a breka from doing illegal drugs for a while. good move. now i don't have to spiral any further into my own head!!!!!!!!!

i fail again, then i win

at this point it's completely pathetic, but you gotta start somewhere.

two nights ago, after begging myself to be a good boy and not call for phone secks, i did. i failed.

last night, i was such a good boy. i winned. i came home after a long day at work, lay in bed depressed until i started sobbing, then got up and got on with my evening. tlin called -- i telepathically commanded her to, and she did. so that was good. i just gotta remember to treat her like the great friend that she is.

no phone secks, drugs, or rock and roll. (just a little ghostface to help me wash my pile of dishes.)

hopefully more boringness tonite.

crying out, now incoherent

ok, that last post had a point, then it got too long, then it turned into a rant when i tried to end it. sorry. more ranting:

i spend all day alone. i spend all night alone. i don't talk to anyone, ever, unless it's on the phone or the exchange of pleasantries. no face time. so at home i do negative things, because i am sad and alone and i don't care that i am doing negative things. no one needs to know how bad i feel. no one wants to know.

i am a negative person who tries to act positive. i can be positive for others, but not for myself. i don't believe i'm much of anything, that i matter much to anyone besides my family. i think my group of friends is set up so that the parts are interchangeable. if someone moves out of town, well, other people are still around. go talk to them. i don't matter to anyone besides maybe two friends here, and two friends there. four people, plus three family members. seven people give a shit. is that a lot? it might be. i might be lucky and not know it.

do i give enough of a shit about other people? i haven't for the past couple years. it was inconvenient when i had a girlfriend, because she would listen in on all my conversations and ask questions about them when i was done talking. so i stopped calling anyone. i didn't have privacy so fuck it. i rreally despise her for that (why didn't i just dump her? touche). now i could call people, catch up, all that. i've tried a bit, not very hard. i need to try harder. my negligence has hurt some relationships, i hope not too much. i want to smash my head into a wall. i can't see a way out. i see nothing but more deterioration - of my will, my friendships, my abilities. i am destroying myself slowly, and have been for years.

work

when i was 15 i had my first summer job.

the previous summer, between my freshman and sophomore years in high school, i spent in the basement studying french, in the basement playing sega genesis, and in bedroom reading books. i felt like a nothing, because i didn't have a job. i was too much of a pussy to try caddying, which seemed like an awful deal - wake up at 5:30am to carry some dude's bag and get all these golf rituals correct. i was way too small and clumsy to believe i could do that without suffering substantial humiliation on the daily. that was really the only job i knew about, the only job i could get as a 14 year old and also get a ride to. so fuck it, i was 14. i stuck around the house and whiled the hours away somehow. and french 2 wasn't that big a deal, just more grammar.

so that summer i wasn't making money and i wasn't playing sports. i was festering. i don't know if my parents knew it, but i was probably quite depressed. i had actually depressed a lot that school year, as many 14 year olds are.

so the next summer, i was determined to work. still didn't have a good way to get anywhere, but that was ok - the cleaning lady that made our house smell like lemons every wednesday also had a lawn-cutting service on the side. she could use another mower-operator, so i jumped at it. i sat between her and her 80-year-old uncle in the cab of the covered pickup as we drove from job to job. the first week, it took me a bit to get it together. i was a weak little kid, still - i hadn't played sports again that year, as i'd entered sophomore year with a broken arm. that killed my soccer career.

but after a week, my cleaning lady and new boss called my mom and told her it wasn't working out, that i was too weak. (she was a beast who pumped iron, of course.) so i'd work for her another week and then i'd be home for another summer of festering. i cried like a baby when i heard the news. my parents didn't know what to do. i remember saying "i've got NOTHING going for me right now." which was true. no discernible hobbies, no friends within walking distance, no girls, no job, no sports, no nothing. so i cried some more and then my parents took my puffy face to see "howard's end" at the dollar show. rock.

the next week, ostensibly my last working as a lawnboy, i must have just gotten the hang of everything, finding a rhythm once i ceased caring. or maybe i was consciously trying to prove myself to the cleaning lady. either way, she graciously spared me at the end of the week. i'd end up working for her all that summer and the next, swallowing crypto-racist banter and her uncle's pee smell in the cab of the truck.

every summer after that, i had a fulltime job. in the brief periods i didn't, i'd be depressed. this is why i'm terrified to quit my current job, to branch out and see what the wide world has to offer. freelancing, etc. i'm too worried i'll spiral out of control and ... well, i don't have much confidence right now. but i haven't for a while, excepting brief periods. but now i find myself depressed in my fulltime, longterm job, and i don't know what to do. i'm all alone. i don't have anyone to talk to. no one really wants to hear this crap. i need a therapist, i guess. i tried getting one before, but i can't figure out how to do it. HR is a movign target at this job - the HR rep is here, then quits, then in atlanta, then let go, then operations are shifted and... the point is i can't figure out how to get a therapist. so i stew. probably not the best solution.

positivity struggles

1. my body is getting stronger because i exercise
2. i did a good job working in boston
3. i eat good
4. i am a gracious dumpee
5. i'm trying to try new things
6. i write the best blog in the world

negativity thrives

in order to flush all this negativity from my brain, i will expel it by naming it:

1. tin won't call; who knows why?
2. kiirs won't call; doesn't miss me at all
3. can't get shit done at work; unmotivated as fuck
4. no jobs i could get are better than the one i have
5. i suck at life = phone secks
6. my apt is messy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

that is all.

When something's not right, it's wrong.

Zen of Dylan.

Anyway, I totally failed last night. I'm sitting there with my phone and thinking "if i dial this number, half-stoned though i may be, i will have to write about it on that blog (which is the best blog ever; WHERE ELSE DO YOU GET PHONESEX CONFESSIONS?).

so yeah i was playing wiht differnet dirty parts of my body and i called some phoner hoe and had a really pretty vanilla conversation adn didn't even really come because i was like "this is stupid and doesn't work for me that well." so i hung up and flew solo some more.

Dropped $20 on that. YAYAYAYAY.

I = LOSE

________________

In other news, i hung with Elise and she did her best to convince me i should go freelance. Probably i should. i can write at at least a 12th grade level. I even looked up my old "professional" articles (technically, yeah) from when i was 20/21 and learned two things:

1. I was a serviceable writer then.
2. I am a slightly more serviceable writer now.

Well, tonight I"M REALLY NOT GOING TO CALL TEH PHONE SECKS>> Je promise.

i have to get shorts before 7 so i can do kung food. KUNG FOOD! ok blog, i will tell you tomorrow about kung food HOPEFULLY ass-ooming i don't PUSS OUT..

i = frreak

i don't know how to put this, but i am a freak. i guess most are. some are not. i happen to be one who hides it pretty well. like most of us, i assume.

i have spent my twenties ramping up my freak factor to the point that i can see the landscape pretty well, and it's not all that interesting. i knows what i wants and i like liking what i likes.

but still lingering is my lack of judgment when it comes to random sexxual indulgence. we're not talking hoo-ahs. hoo-ahs, as italian-americans in movies and some in real life call them, are not a big part of my repetoire. in all honesty, i've been to two. one was a mistake, the other was i don't know... liberating. i obviously have mixed feelings abotu "ssupporting sex workers." i feel worse when i think about the women i've treated somewhat like horres. you know you don't like them but you spend spend spend on them in terms of ATTENTION and TIME and MONEY and FALSE EMOTION to get that sweet tang. that is bad. i don't ever want to do taht again.

But going to a woman who gives blowjobs for a living in a safe environment and paying her for a blowjob? i don't see how i'm supposeed feel bad about that. i guess i'm "creating the demand" but if i don't, someone else will. there is NO FUCKING WAY some future utopia will have solved the problem of demand for sex work.

so the moral of part one of this blog entry? i have bene to horres a couple tiems in the past. it is expensive but sometimes soemwhat satifsying. i don't feel bad aboujt this.

i feel bad, howver, about the amount of money i blow on phone sex. yeah, i'm one of those guys. it's easy to hide that shit. expeciallllyyyy if one lives alone for any period of time. or just has the apt to himself a bit. in my younger days i'd spend countelss hours trolling yahoo chat or some other sleazy venue for willing (free) f4emale phonesex participants. despite occasional successes, some with long-term dividiends, i decided the suupply genearlly didn't meet my demand. sooo i gave that up for the instant gratification of pay-for-play-play phone sex. (hereafter, p4ppps.) p4ppps is not awesome, but it gets the job done. it can be relatively cheap - relative to going to a whorrse or a strip club, but not relative to a j/o booth. (YUCK! i've totally been to those too. haha)

soo what is my point? why do i feel bad about this? ahh because it represents my lack of self-control. over the last coupla weeks, for instance, i've just let loose and not cared or tried to limit my consumption of p4ppps minutes. it's hit my wallet. or my bank account, more like. if i can't stop this, i will never save money. that's the bottom line. so dear readers, all of whom are now ENCHANTED with my "fucking loser: side, will now get a blow-by-blow (or rather fap by fap) acocunt of my accounting. today: no p4ppps so far. update tomrorow. and the next and the next ad vomitorium.

shari knows all

Q. I've been seeing a woman I'm nuts about for roughly 7 months. She's amazing; talented, smart, worldly, successful, vivacious and great in bed. The trouble is, I get the feeling I'm just a 'fling' for her, and there's really no future in this deal. When I talk about wanting more time, attention, commitment and sense of continuity in our relationship, she either changes the subject or details how she thinks we're incompatible. My bullshit barometer keeps telling me that no matter what I do or how much I change, it's not gonna make a difference in my shot at a future here. I don't know what to do, as for all intents and purposes, I see her as the 'perfect' woman for me! Any suggestions? Boy Toy

A. Dear Boy Toy: When a man wants to share his heart with a woman, he needs to pay particular attention to her capacity for connection, compassion and humanity. He should also look at her romantic history; what kind of relationships she's chosen in the past, how long they lasted, and their interpersonal dynamics. You need to assess whether the two of you share similar goals for yourselves and this relationship, or are you trying to fit square pegs into round holes? Your lady may be the most sensual/sexual creature on the face of this earth, but if you can't get near the soft parts behind her breastbone, you'll be forever trapped in yearning for something that's unattainable, and never feel you measure up. If you have a high tolerance for the feelings this invokes, it's extremely likely you had parallel experiences in childhood, and still carry those open wounds. There's an old saying; If you wanna know what you want, look around at what you have. Painful, negative experiences are far easier to replicate than positive ones, because on some level, they're familiar to us (we already have that roadmap). If you're really looking to give your heart (along with the rest of you) look for someone who can treasure it, and return your interest and affection.

i have questions for you people.

1. is bright eyes really good? which albums? i realized he was serious when i heard that "when the president talks to god" jay leno performance that never made it to the air. i thought it was inelegant, juvenile, and completely fucking necessary. so i'm wondering about his other works.

i have a feeling that he is amazing, but i want to save him for later. like i did and have been doing (to great effect) with bob dylan. dylan,, incidentally, is thte only cat i can really listen to right now. everyone else seems a little silly.

2. does that ever happen to anyone else?

(well, that's not totally true, i'm loving this WHO song right now.)

3. who are you people? why don't nobody read this blog, it is better than edveryone's.

party store = best blog ever

i have to say i enjoy reading this blog more than all others. it is awesome. good job, party store.

what is going on, tin? where are you? where have you been? are you trapped in one-on-one mode, i know that mode. there's never a good time to break away. or when you do break away, you need to be aloooonnnneee for real. no calls, just clear your own head. so no time for calling me. i need it, maybe, i don't know. call me though, tin. i have to make my own amends to you. are you angry that i was out of touch? we're always out of touch to some degree. i'm out of touch, you're out of touch, and i'm out of my head when you're not around. well when not around for long extended remix periods.

i have two late revelations to add to my kiiiirs thinking. probably more, but these are the two important ones right now.

1. a possible roadblock to our long-term happiness: she was somewhat a prude in terms of gender roles in the bedroom. yeah, i know. big fucking deal? i don't know. i am a little bitch sometimes, and she would have needed to treat me like one from time to time. definitely not every time, and definitely not out of the bedroom. but yhou know, there's that.

(why is it a big deal if i wanna try your underpants on? our asses are the same size, so no stretching, and your underpants were always so scrumptious. whhy not have fun with it? laugh at me if you want, laugh with me, it's fun. i have no idea bout her ideas on pegginggigng a guy, the roadblock at underpants junction kept me from making it to the strap-on inquiry district. oh and this is another thing i want to rant about, not about kiirrs but just about men/women in general. why is it that anything a woman could possibly be into in the bedroom is automatically not a big deal. i mean, there's one explanation, guys are comoplete fucking sluts and will do anything a girl asks for. but so many things make a dude a weirdo, and i'm into all of themm. so i have to find a woman who's completelyopenminded. who i also get along with on the kiirs level? it is not easy or fair :( :( :( :( :( :(

2. i never knew how fucking lonely i'd been for years until i had her and then lost her.

Wherein i gets serious for a half-sec

i was just texting with kevin, and trying to encapsulating what i was going thru in a coupole lines without depressing him or alarming him or sounding self-pitying. basicaly, what i ended up saying is something i truly feel - at least i finally know what it's like to give a shit abouut a girl. to feel really, really awful when she's gone. when has that happened before? NEVER. so this is good. I CAN FEEL PASSIONATE ABOUT SOMEBODY. it is a new thing. i know how it works now, and i know what to avoid. i.e., passionless relationships. i KNOW SOMETHING IMPORTANT AND NEW NOW. thank you kirsten, hoenstly, honestly, without irony, from the bottom of my heart.