internet lonliness

I spent the weekend with R. We went and drank by the lakefront, she watched me cook for her after.

I’m honestly the happiest I’ve been in a very long but I’m absolutely terrified that it’ll come crash down. Both of us have all kinds of baggage but like we are both just dealing with it and it’s working.

I was telling her the other day that part of doing what we’re doing is you have to put yourself in a vulnerable mindset, that yes I can hurt her and she can hurt me but if you don’t let the walls down then…well, isolation is horrible.

She really really hates when I compliment her looks, like to the point where she’ll mock me if I do. So I find myself often just admiring her without saying anything. This is very different from any situation I’ve ever been in. Women usually like being complimented on their looks but this is very different.

The whole thing started cerebral and is continuing that way. That’s one thing that really changes in your mid 30s, you start to understand that we all age and you have to make deeper connections.

So scared tho but that’s good, I need to feel scared. I’m trying really really really hard to get her to fall for me. Doing lots of little things like refilling her glass of wine without asking and what not.

Oh well, need to just enjoy the fact that even being old, jaded and not really what society thinks of as a attractive man that I can attract something like her. Even if ended tomorrow I’m still a very different person after this whole experience.

Been lazy with this site but like honestly I haven’t had much to write about until the last few weeks. So like, I always feel like the day I leave New Orleans is one day so every mardi gras is like the last? Decided this year to take the gloves off and live at the office in midcity for a few days during the holiday and just kinda spend time around the insanity because who knows when it’s your last.

Sleeping bag on the floor feels rough if you are 25 or 40 but I’m having fun. I’ve spent way more time of my life alone and miserable then happy with someone so it feels oddly…normal.

I’m completely minding my own business when I see a reddit message. It’s from a woman who says she likes my comments and posts and wants to meet. I look like shit but say fuck it, lyft is on it’s way.

So I’m not really known for a lot of self confidence…she’s of course absolutely drop dead gorgeous and a high end programmer so I feel insecure and like it actually feels better to type it out even though no one fucking reads this site. So I guess not as brave as I want it to be.

In retrospect, I had been drinking way too much to meet a person from the internet, like I was pretty far into whatever introspective thing I was trying to achieve. She told me things yesterday I said and even I was like “oh wow that sounds like something you would say but…”

I apparently at one point in the first date she was way too skinny and hot and she needed to eat some pasta, like bro that is not how you flirt, wtf.

So I figure, well, that was a ruined opportunity but I don’t really give up unless I hear like stop, no don’t, stop texting me, leave me alone so I message her again. I dunno what she saw in me but have a second date that goes way better.

The next day I leave and I’m like it’s a beautiful day, let’s hike to the streetcar on Canal and go to the bulldog and get a bus from there. It was even more fun because I had my black purse with me and a giant plastic bottle of benchmark. It’s funny because on my walk there, as people would see me drink from it at intersections and how even a $5 metal flask looks 100% more classic but even tho fat tuesday was a week ago, it’s still mardi gras.

It was a nice journey across the city and go home and sleep.

So I might have made a better impression and she invites me over for dinner. I’m doing better, way more charming and left her house early in the morning.

Now she lives in lower garden district and like it’s been gentrified pretty but it’s still the LGD. The first time I saw a person shoot at a police offer and see a police offer shoot back was in the lower garden district so I’m a little hyper paranoid. Finally I give up and get a lift after a while, kinda still feeling like a bitch, I could have made it the whole way.

I know she’ll never read this but it feels/felt great to hangout with someone like her. I’m not going to push my luck but I also kinda am. Amazing story worth this web site tho.

Money in…money out. Why do I even bother with it all, throw the mic down and walk away.

The best problems are the ones that I can’t really “fix” as in my fridge died. The supply chain on the planet is in a tumble so any parts for even basic parts is just fucked. I have a leftover steak from the restaurant 500 yards from my condo for lunch tomorrow. It’s like camping but sad.

I don’t care. On top of my game, need to charge more. I’m really worried about me and Ginny. Losing your fridge in the middle of a relationship is kind of a deal breaker. She’s been present every time I call for a update but I dunno. Maybe this is a Strength in the SWOT analysis in her head. He doesn’t need a microwave, that was broken a while back, oh, guess he can live on just a freezer. We always have the grill downstairs if he loses power but then we won’t have netflix.

She never said or thought any of those things but typing it keeps it on the internet and out of my head.

I will get my fridge fixed. As soon as the part gets here. Fuck, who would have known this was our future. Death upon death, history will be harsh, I hope. Or they won’t. Donald Trump will be the laughable grandpa that Bush became? No wonder Thompson shot himself at such a young age.

Fridge. Yes. Part here soon. The problem is without my fridge I can’t cold crash the “wine” ive been making. Basically throwing it in the fridge to let the yeast settle before you bottle and drink it. I feel lost without but can’t cold crash without the fridge. I’m going to make more this weekend just because it’s cheap fun.

So as I’ve dated Ginny, I’ve learned she has certain…quirks..I tend to try to remember. One of these she doesn’t like when people get out of the car before her. I don’t know why but whatever, okay. I even put the seat down on the toilet, etc.

One thing tho is..Styrofoam. She does not like the sound of it rubbing, at all. Like brushing a cup against a table is like nails on a chalkboard, I kinda get it, it sounds terrible. Anyway, after I accidentally reminded myself that she hates this today when we stopped to get some daiquiris after eating some sushi.

I slid the cup on the coffee table and it made that signature sound that she isn’t a fan of. It got me thinking…ouloud, what would be the worst way to torture someone with styrofoam and I figured being buried alive in a styrofoam box that has a lot of loose styrofoam in it and probably dosed with LSD. After I place Ginny in this styofoam coffin and place it in the ground, I attach a bluetooth speaker with a zydeco spotify music station selected and a ravpower usb charger so it can play extra loud.

I described this to her and she screamed SAFEWORD, not that we have a safe word, we should probably get one. So fucking funny.

My language of love is probably a form of torture in some countries.

Ginny and I decided to go visit Gus this weekend with a loaded cooler of beer. We sat and talked, I don’t remember what, that’s kind of the beauty of this kind of relationship, we just talk while the ghost of Gus listens. And judges us because we had sex in front of him. Whatever.

We watched two unleashed dogs run and it was incredibly how enjoyable it was just to watch dogs have fun. We both want a dog but are smart enough to know it’s just not a good idea as a responsible adult at this time. It sucks, I miss Marla, oh well.

On sunday…we went on a double date with some people. I’m not going to write about this because crackhore may one day become popular again and I don’t want to ruin anyone.

It was notable tho, something I need to write and note about. The woman on the date with me and Ginny said she had never seen me smile so much, telling me how she has seen me so sad for so many years and how drastic the change in my demeanor has been.

It was kinda strange but yet really warm to hear someone tell me how happy I am.

It’s also terrifying, I have potentially fucked up with all of this. I didn’t mean to fall in love, I don’t know how to keep her in love with me.

The fun of life, just gotta do more situps and pushups. I can’t fix my personality but abs help.

Love you ginny, see you soon.

Okay, I should have wrote this down Sunday night after it happened but I just wrote “woman touching piss jeans” after telling this story to Ginny because she missed out…whatever this is.

So let me set the stage. We’re at a bar. I’ve just witnessed Tom Brady win a great game because the NFL is a fixed stupid piece of shit that I don’t even know why I waste my time watching it.

I do know why. My friend, let’s call him Byron, he’s my boy. I watched every Saints game last year and this year with him. He would stab me in the eye with a fork for one more season of Drew Brees to play but I love him.

So the entire night there is this woman dancing, just having a good time. Not young but not too old, it’s tough not to enjoy the acceptance of herself dancing around the bar and talking to people.

Eventually the bar starts to die down and a very non descript white dude walks in and starts to talk to her while she’s alone. My table just kinda looks back at the TV and Byron gets up to go pee.

He gets back and he can’t stop laughing. Byron is a…dry motherfucker, it’s tough to make him crack a smile but he is laughing. I want to know, tell me, what is it.

So now when he tells me this story, the obvious skeptic in me comes out but when I say “no dude stop fucking with me”, he didn’t make this up.

He tells me when he goes into the men’s bathroom the dude is pissing into the urninal but has the jeans and boxers all the way down.

Into the puddle of a hundred dude’s piss, just soaking it all up, like a piss tampon.

Byron goes into the only other stall that’s the actual toilet is and is trying to pee while laughing.

I seriously have never seen or heard of this outside of a movie/tv show and my mind begins to spiral.

Literally probably a hundred dudes pissed in that one urninal since there is only one plus the toilet.

He’s taking that chick home based on their touchy whateverness. She’s in the car with him and she’s running her hand down his piss soaked jeans.

Jeans soaked in Byron, well, not mine because I pee in the toilet with the seat up and flush using my boot, but ALL the people who won’t just piss in the toilet instead of standing in a puddle of dudes piss that I don’t even want to get on my fucking boots!!$@#$@#$@#$@#

Yeah, so I’m like live blogging this to Ginny the whole time like…just…

We all start discussing this, like where did life fail him to say…when you pee, especially when there is piss on the ground, just kinda hold one thing with one hand and the other with the other and it works out.

Fuck, now I’m sad, maybe he didn’t have a dad but…no, someone should have along the way, beat him up in highschool or said something in some other mutual pissing situation to just…

Also, it’s kinda socially okay to wear jeans until they, in my terms, smell like butthole, but like does he put those on the next day for brunch?

Yup.

Things are obviously bad…just not going well. I feel like I’m in one of the worst possible cities to live in during a pandemic. I am a firm believer it’s not “ending” and we’re going to end up like Flint Michigan after foreign cars became a thing.

I’ve been getting work in other cities, it can work in a sense. I’m not a bad sales person. We have a nice portfolio. Just need to charge more.

Anyway, the reason I’m writing this is for legal reasons.

For the last…i mean like probably 6 months, my neighbor has been trying to sell their unit. I’ve made it a personal mission to ruin her. I dunno why, I just don’t like the way she looks? Damn when I type it out, I don’t know why I hate her, I just feel like if I had a glass of wine with her we would disagree with a lot of things. Or I’m a sadistic asshole?

So back when the weather nice I usually leave the doors open on the condo and you know, blare Marilyn Manson during the work day. That makes it a little tricky to sell a condo unit. I mean, I guess unless you are enlightened enough to enjoy that kind of music.

I have to admit, I’ve gone a little overboard a few times with the Hitler youtube speeches that I’d put on when I see her showing the place. Yes, I’m being a asshole for new reason so don’t bother saying it…

Reminds me, the other day when I was at Ginny’s and had the joy of yelling ALEXA PLAY SLUT GARDEN

Smell pleasures in life.

So back to the reason I’m writing this. On New Year’s eve, I lost some weed. Just couldn’t find where I put it. I’m pretty good at not losing things, just not 100% I know where it is. Ginny finds it in her car while on the road about to drive to Texas. That’s obviously a bad idea, going to drop it off with me.

She calls when she’s outside and it just happens to be when the realtor is here. I’m walking down in my camo pants and flip flops and they ask me what it’s like to live here.

It’s finally happened, it’s my time. I have/had been drinking all morning to get rid of the hangover, really need to eat, etc so I’m in perfect form to talk to them.

I started immediately into “there’s been a lot of suicides here” and talking about ghosts and how you shouldn’t do hallucigens here.

Woman realtor looks fucking horrified, the client seems almost intrigued like “ohhh okay”.

Anyway, I was texting Ginny if I ever die and it “looks like a accident”, it’s that bitch realtor that killed me.

so…yeah, let’s see.

Ginny cooked/baked for me. It was awesome, I will follow up on all of this but I just wanted to put something into ink to remind me about this weekend.

It was a…it gets to that line where I can’t write about it on the site because I don’t want this published online and she doesn’t either.

Anyway, saints shit the bed. They didn’t even pretend to try to win…I shouldn’t feel too bad, I wanted them to win, I cheered, we cheered…and sad.

Whatever, it doesn’t really “relate to me” as a person or a business but it actually does. As a business, any publicity, even tho we don’t even want or should even allow but just…fuck, i don’t even know. Fucking covid is killing everyone, our tourism based city is dying.

She reads this site occasionally but it’s terrible to say that I almost just want to abandon life if she leaves me. It’s never good advice to say things like that to someone, no one should ever be “the reason” and she isn’t, I have a lot of “strengths” here but the weaknesses are burning into my head.

Whatever. Everything that happened was nice. Everything after the last mardi gras, nightmare mode. Also, you’ll notice on the date of this post, we haven’t had the presidential inauguration riot that’s coming up on this wednesday.

I have a lot of real intense emotional experiences with Ginny, which will obviously be a real to slit my wrists if she breaks my heart, but I told her we need to spend the night Biden goes in together because I want someone to reload while I shoot.

This is chapter 2 of the end. I’m going to start stockpiling canned foods. Ginny seems still very fond of me, I can see her eyes when I think about her but she maybe probably hates me too…whatever.

Figured I’d write here…I have a hour and a half before I can drive homewithout sitting in fucking grid locked traffic.

Today is Thursday. Ginny and I have been spending Wednesdays together as a habit. A nice break through the week to spend time with each other. I love it. We also always do it at her place on those nights so she cooks a amazing meal and it kinda takes ownership for her over the place? I dunno. It’s nice being somewhere besides my pier 8 cell or my temple in midcity.

We’ve been spending a lot of time together for months now but I still feel this extreme worry that it’ll end. I mean, when you think about it, it’s not even that wild to think that the ultimate end is misery for both of us, because it always has. God, that’s fucked up but maybe that’s the reason I’m feeling that?

Overall things are fucking awful. I can’t seem to get any money flowing into the business. I want to just give up and sit in a cubicle and update a daily status log of what I did. Spend the evenings in the gym and get drunk alone and watch tv before I start it again.

Actually no, that was fucking awful when I did that last time. Just as miserable without any of the freedom.

Just shut the fuck up. You need more sales people, it’s not a complicated problem. I don’t like to talk about work on this site, this site is for sex, drugs and rock and roll that web design just maybe funds. I was the happiest with I had S.O. selling for me. I’m going to call him right now, can use his some of his energy over the phone to figure out what the fuck to do with this month.

No mardi gras, no jazz fest, no football tourism money. No one making money, no one spending it.

On a plus, I’m getting my sailboat towed on Friday to get it…livable. My ultimate backup plan is in process. It’s like living in a van but without the luxury of ground below it. Can’t…wait.

I love that answer when people asks how I’m doing. I mean sure, there is a very warm civil war brewing in this country, I can barely make my payments to my team and you know, the pandemic that is killing people and also killing the ability for me to meet with people in person which is..yeah.

My mind raced through all this yesterday as I drove to Ginny’s for dinner. God, she is such a fucking good cook. I thought I was pretty good in the kitchen but now I’m like “I’ll just rub your shoulders after”, take the garbage out and put the bag back in the trashcan kinda thing.

Everything will be fine.

I haven’t been writing on here about it but I’ve been making “things” with yeast, apple juice, cranberry juice, lemonade, etc. Letting it ferment for a few weeks/months and then, well, yeah.

So to catch you up on it, I’m doing it like software updates, documenting each a google doc with what I put in it, when, etc.

So version 1.0 was sloppy, I did 6 bottles of 3 liters, each different sugar, ingredients, etc. I’m drinking some of it right and I’m kinda happy with myself how well it turned out.

Version 2.0 which I started over 2 weeks ago and is probably ready for “processing” is really exciting. I threw in a bunch of red chili pepper into the mango, apple juice bottles, should be interesting.

I typically do my hooching on Mondays when I work from home. I’m hurting on money bad because of…reasons…but I still added 2 bottles of apple juice to my instacart order. It gets here and I decide to boil some water with some black tea and rosemary that I cut from a local resturant’s rosemary bush.

Prepped some red star yeast in some warm water, dumped it in, shook it and it’s off and going. I checked on it today and they are moving forward but I honestly think I might start using this site to document when and what I do instead of trying to use a spreadsheet.

I’m glad tomorrow is Friday. This has been a shit week but whenever I feel fucking sad I remember how great life is at this moment.

It’s all smooth sailing
From here on out