Realtor who already has probably masturbated at the thought of murdering me is showing the unit across from me. Barefoot, camo pants, orange hawaiian shirt and the non descript black hat because I left the fuck the falcons hat in Ginny’s car. Smoking a cigar at noon on a Wednesday with Alice in chains blaring. She gives me that look that I crave and unlocks the door while the clients stare in awe. The Alice in chains is probably is better then the hitler speeches I usually put on when I see her.
Jesus christ…as I stick with my routine of watching football on Monday reflecting on the weekend, this one was definitely for the books. Ginny took Friday off and came over early. We drove through the celebration in the oaks and went to the local drinking spot and drank with a friend of mine.
He had been drinking since I had left him earlier so when we get there he was approaching what I call the prime of drinking. I saw something in Ginny that night I hadn’t really seen, her ability to just listen and let people talk. I learned a lot about my friend by just watching her talk with him. There were several times where she would kinda punch, slap my chest to remind me to shut up because I fucking talk way too much and just let him talk.
The next day we went to a very special event. Because of how well this site ranks for organic, I’m not going to name the organization but it was a outdoor christmas party that I was beyond excited to bring Ginny to. It was such a fucking great time, a memory I’ll cherish.
My favorite thing was when we get to the party, I get us some wine, sit down with Ginny and someone comes up to me. He immediately says “You look like the devil!”
I’m wearing a black suit, black shirt and a red tie. I did look like the devil. I immediately thank him and his wife goes “oh, I remember you” which is my favorite phrase to ever hear because it’s never “you said something really sweet” or…whatever.
Absolute amazing day.
It’s not even over tho, that’s just saturday. So it’s sunday. I dress in my saints gear and head to the bar I’ve been watching games at while Ginny goes home to do laundry. Something I’ve tried to say to her a million times but dunno if I get it to her but I love that she is okay with me enjoying football. It’s stupid, I know, I just love the saints. And hate the falcons. So many women are off limits if you are even slightly into football and I love that she lets me indulge in it.
So me and my friend always take a lyft to this specific bar where we watch the game. Ginny says she’ll come by and pick us up after the game and save us the lyft drive back. I fucking love her.
So the game is going pretty well, too close to be happy but whatever, that’s what is involved in being a saints fans. I dunno how many jello shots we had, one for each touch down when she walks in. Fucking black fishnets and boots. She struts in, knowing she is fucking sexy as fuck and knowing what she is doing to my mind and sits down next to me. I really like Ginny because she’s a unashamed person like I am. I felt no guilt rubbing her thighs in front of people. I’m kinda at a loss at what the hell happened the rest of the night tho. From what I can remember…
We left the saints bar and ended up the place near my place. I’m not sure how it came up but either me or Ginny told my friends that she gets at least 3 orgasms out of me every morning and one of my neighbors was impressed by it.
Oh, I forgot about that. So Ginny had a christmas party with her co-workers and was bragging about how she gets 3 every morning and one of her co-workers was telling her she needs to go “get 4, 5, 6” after she leaves the party.
If life was any better then I’d feel guilty. This weekend is Christmas, which is a great excuse to summon even more demons. Steak, crab legs and other things. And other things.
It’s scary shit. This is a new world we have been living in. Everyone is adjusting.
I’ll strangle the next person who says “when this is over”, this isn’t ever going to be over. It’s just going to be. We have to deal with it until we’re dead. The U.S. failed at stopping this. Someone posted the other day that this is as bad as a world war but it’s worse because in WW2 all the factories that built shit in europe were destroyed and the U.S. took over building shit because we didn’t get bombed by the nazis.
This time is different, the whole world was bombed, we are all fucked but we haven’t done a good job keeping our population safe.
I’m honestly just done with it. I shouldn’t type this outloud but I’m kinda just waiting to see what happens with me and Ginny over the next 10 months because New Orleans is the worst place to recover from this economic blow. Her lease ends in October and I have a mortgage that can be easily end. I also hate living in this prison of a condo building and the things that I loved about this city has disappeared because of covid.
The thing is….and this is terrible but as long as I have weed, alcohol, 90s music and a beautiful woman, I can live in a goddamn shipping container in the middle of the Atlantic/Pacific ocean. Like, let’s just fucking go, this city is fucked now and it’s not going to probably recover in our lifetime?
I dunno, that’s like 5,000 feet level thinking and I’m thinking about doing laundry, changing the sheets before Ginny comes over tomorrow.
I’ve also been getting really into making “wine”. I did 21 liters on Monday which is fermenting nicely in my wine cellar, aka, bathroom closet. I used to love home brewing beer but this is easier and more gratifying, faster, so here we go.
Anyway, I’m the happiest I’ve been in many years. I punished myself for a year after E and T. I didn’t believe I deserved to be happy because I’m kind of a shit person. Selfish, mean, whatever words people like to throw at me maybe they are right.
Or maybe they are just assholes. I strive to be happy. I’m not a incel in a sense that I think I deserve a woman, women only want what they want and as a person you have to try to achieve being someone that someone wants to be around. That means situps, leg lifts, pull ups, running and building fucking sites.
She loves me tho. I know it might be temporary and the feel of crackhore might change if things fall apart but I can’t not feel optimistic.
I’ve been on a upturn in a sense, just making sure that running and exercise is part of my life. I’ve been struggling getting back into upper body work but whatever, I’m trying.
A month or two ago I registered for a 10k race that starts about half a mile from my condo. I was probably drunk when I registered for it, full of ego and whatever. I had already been training but there is something about the looming dread of a race to inspire you.
I’ve been drinking too much. There, I said it. I’m going to drink less. That’s not the point of this.
I get really bad pre race anxiety and you stack that on top of my insomnia it turns into basically sleeping poorly.
I wake up and start hydrating, stretching and the sky looks fucking dark as fuck, like something out of a NIN video. I drink some protein powder after the emergenc/gatoraide mix that I live on now.
It’s easy to start thinking “fuck this, it’s raining”. You already have the shorts on. Ginny is texting you and you are texting her. She’s encouraging you. I love having her in my life, anyway.
I walk outside into the rain and walk to the starting line in bucktown. I cower under the pavilion while I wait for my wave to start.
It continues to rain as we start. I don’t like this sport anymore. I didn’t start strava because i could barely unlock my phone because of being soaked and was barely able to unlock it and start spotify.
Fuck it. Let’s go. The first 2-3 miles were rough but once I got through those I started to just really push myself. The fun part about this race is apparently the 2 sets of hills that are fucking tricky to scale while in the rain and even more tricky running down the hills.
Edit 12/15/2020 So this was set in my drafts until Ginny told me that I haven’t posted in a while so I published everything in my drafts except this.
I finished the race in a fury. The last 2-3 miles I was keeping pace with a woman who was running at about my pace and then the Tool really kicked in and I just left them all behind. The finish line was in sight and my sight started getting blurry when Chocolate Chip Trip started to hit.
Ginny, being almost a child at 29 to my 40, had never seen the Animatrix before. I didn’t even ask if she had seen all of the movies but it’s one of my favorite movies. In one of the novelties (sp, fix later), one of the characters is running a sprint and the matrix agents are watching him to see if he breaks through and then disconnect him if he does.
It felt like this, it went beyond the spear and the woolly mammoth hallucinations I get often when I run +5 miles but I could feel matter stripping away.
You have to keep it into perspective. I am…struggling with my life, not eating well, drinking too much, everything else. I’m both training, running several times a week and body fitness everyday but also doing everything to destroy my psyche and body because…i dunno anymore, that’s for another post.
So when I hit mile 5 and I could see mythical fountains, I turned on the gas and tuned into the ancient mitochondria that fuel my hate and love for this world. The pain started to melt away and the last half mile, it didn’t even hurt.
I crossed the line and a gentleman said “you look like you need a beer” and handed me a budlight. My body is trying to acclimate itself it stop moving through time and space and chug the budlight and toss it in the can before I watch the winners.
It blows my mind how fast they can run looking at their times but I just feel admiration and respect, not shame or disappointment. The people that win these races are barely even related to me as a species when you compare us physically/mentally, so I feel nothing but admiration and very little jealously because my parents are not really not that tall either.
My fucking shoe tag didn’t record my exact time so I don’t show up on the internet results. I was, mad, at first, but then I kinda thought about it and I wasn’t doing this for internet points and it was so cold and wet I couldn’t start strava and barely was able to unlock my phone to start Fear Inoculum which I needed to start, finish this test of spirit.
I grab 2 beers from the cooler, which is a dick move but I didn’t have any beer at home and I paid for the race number, etc, let me have a extra beer. Also took a banana and took a sweet NOTC wine yeti cup that was free too.
Catholic guilt is a bitch.
I stumbled home and laid on the couch after laying in the shower like Elizabeth Shue in Leaving Las Vegas.
I’m so glad I did that race, I saved the number since this was kind of a special race since it’s the first i’ve done in forever and want to frame it and remind me that I can go from the depths of hell to…hell, just, different, rainy hell, with a banana and 2 ipa’s at the end, and the sweet yeti cup and the shirt that doesn’t fit.
Doesn’t matter, 10k at 60 minutes isn’t bad for someone who had to drink a miller light before he even got on the course and made a better time then…well, not many men in my age range but at least…blah…this post felt optimistic but whatever.
So…i dunno how relevant this will be one day when facebook doesn’t exist but you have to hide your relationship status from your profile before you update it, that keeps it from showing up in your 500+ friends feed.
I’ve been purposely single for over a year. A lot of it was punishment from…that last experience. Working on myself, etc. That’s all bullshit tho. Those are lies you tell yourself when you hate…yourself. Anyway, it’s pointless to reflect on the past anymore. You’ve done that enough.
“Once more into the fray, into the last good fight I’ll ever know. Live and die on this day, live and die on this day”
Look at that shit, dropping some deep wisdom.
Anyway, I changed my status to complicated just because it’s just fucking complicated, I don’t know anymore.
I do tho. I maybe should talk about this but I got a paragraph from her explaining how much she loves me, so I think she does. I dunno, gotta get out of my head and focus on what I’m here for, build sites or fucking leave. I think if it comes down to it, I’ll put the things that I love in the office and sell off that god forsaken condo, can always sleep here.
Oh well, black down, brown dog, life with Ginny in Texas. Abandon this failed city, it’s been fun, thanks for all the…beads, or whatever. I feel what Bill Burr says about staying in California until the whole state burns down around him, what’s kinda basically what we have decided at this point as collective culture down here?
Ginny told me this and I saved it as a draft in crackhore to write about it later but it was weeks ago and I can’t forget exactly what I said to trigger that comment. It was probably something dark, dunno, want to save that quote from her tho, maybe if I see her again I can ask where I was going with it and maybe do a sequel update.
Thought about this earlier. So much of my identity has been being fucking miserable. I’m the first to admit the sadness and disasters come from internal, not blaming the world any even anyone specific.
Took Ginny to a Christmas party last night. First time she’s ever really seen me in this environment. Felt so good to get dressed up, we forgot to take a picture together, remembered that this morning. Problem is this party always has a unlimited wine situation so I was talking about how my condo building is haunted while a couple at the table is like “wait, our friend just moved in there”. Turns out him/her, I forget, I was fucking drunk, is on the 3rd floor near me.
This is something I think I’m going to start doing is carrying some kind of notepad with me again to write down these details because typing shit like that on a phone makes you look like a fucking dork but writing it with your dangerous looking pen is way more sexy.
I feel like I mostly behaved. It was funny because there was one woman who was very interested in me and Ginny and our relationship, asking how long we’ve been together, etc. Reflecting on it the next day, we both did a good job, especially me. I get extremely egotistical in business type settings because of just who I am. I think we do damn good work for the price, anyway, this site isn’t for musing about business. It’s about the rock and roll life that mirrors whatever else that pays for the rock and roll lifestyle.
Ginny stayed the night and was dealing with a difficult client while she watched me do my morning situps and pushups and the post workout PBR to stop the intense fear of absolutely nothing.
I could tell it was a difficult client so I emptied the french press into the garden, cleaned it with soap, ground beans while the water boiled, poured the water into the measuring cup and then pouring it into the french press, grabbing a coffee cup and setting both in front of her. I started a timer on one of my chromebooks so she knew when it was done steeping and went to the pull up bar.
She left to go about her day and I shower and get ready for my meeting and dealt with some the worst traffic I’ve seen in a while since the interstate was completely blocked both directions. It gave me time to reflect.
I’m not used to feeling content and happiness. That’s not something I’m used to. There is a comfort in sadness and loneliness that becomes the normal for so many people and you can easily forget that your self inflicted personal isolation is self inflicted. I can still be who I am if I’m in a good mood.
Into the depths we go. 30 days until work basically starts again. Just do what you can to make life better. Exercise, that’s a good use of time. Fermenting wine, good use of time. No one wants to talk to me before christmas and new years and if they do want to talk to me they know my number.
I hate and love this time of year. Tomorrow is a Christmas party. So excited to get my hair cut, get dressed up, eat steak, drink wine, get covid, die, mourned by no one.
Shit, that got dark, I was happy when I started.
I can hear yelling, I think from the condo to the bottom left of me based on the smoking neighbor on his balcony.
Oh and the neighbor’s husband who died on thanksgiving left his car parked in his spot with the driver side door open. I thought about going and closing it but a rule I established when I first moved in is do not get involved. Simply closing a door can open a pandora’s box drama that I’m just not really charged for.
I’m going to look out from my balcony to see if it’s still open. I should go close it if it’s still open.
It’s closed, okay good, still taking up 2 spots. Glad he’s not near me, doesn’t mean he can’t hit my poor car.
On a positive note, I’m getting my haircut tomorrow. It just doesn’t look good long and sunday night Ginny was pulling me by hair and choking me which sounds hot while typing out but at the time it was scary.
I got a haircut scheduled tomorrow tho.
I always walk Ginny to her car for one last kiss. A huge cold front came in last night so I’m wearing wool socks, my camo pajama pants that my mom gave me for christmas and my big black fuzzy robe.
She says she has a yoga mat in her car so I slip on the blue crocs, which no one seems to like and we’re walking to her car. She’s parked a little farther away then usual. So we’re just walking and I start laughing that I’m just strutting down the street in the 50 degree weather and 33 mph wind . The roofers working are looking at me.
The blue crocs tend to kinda be a scourge among my friends and loved ones. My friend Peter once threw one of them into the palm trees by the pool and sat up there for days until I could figure out how to get it down.
Crocs are totally acceptable but in very specific colors and situations. Like if you’re a line cook? Crocs are fine but probably black or a dark color.
I decided a few weeks back to slowly start getting back into shape, like just for the last time, I’m not going to let myself go anymore. I have a basic level of “in shape” that I want to maintain until I die. It’s going well tho. It’s interesting tho because at this stage of the game, I’m probably drinking “too much” and don’t get me started about the other things. And stuff.
Lately I’ve been taking 1-2 bong hits before my long runs and while that sounds like a terrible practice on paper, it lets me tap into the ancient DNA that made us what we are.
I talk about this on reddit a lot but when I start getting towards that 5-6 mile mark, I start to feel the spear in my hand and see buffalo and wooly mammoth. Being able to run long distances was basically what made us what we are as a species.
Today has been prepping my life for Ginny coming over. I always try to make sure my life is as put together as possible when she comes over so this morning has been taking bong hits, doing pull ups while doing laundry so I can put on clean sheets. All this has to be done before I leave to go watch the saints game.
Whenever I have to laundry in this nightmare condo building, I always make sure to have headphones on so I can ignore people easier. Today’s choice was Amputechture.
Now I’m a firm believer that The Bedlam In Goliath is the best The Mars Volta album but boy…if it’s been a few weeks/months since you last hear The Day Of Baphomets, take a nice bong hit, do as many pulls up as you can and give that a go if it’s been a while.
I’ve been cycling through their entire discography pretty viciously. I was lucky enough to see them in Memphis many years ago and it was insane, the fucking drummer is animal.
It’s ironic because a lot of this whole “fix your fucking life” has came from hooking up with a beautiful young create…I often say I’m basically training for a race. A race? Yeah, a race against every single other fucking asshole exactly like me. New Orleans is terrible about it, dating pool gets awful shallow. Like I can’t afford to not be good looking, it’s hard enough as it is.
I digress but it’s ironic I’ve been spending so much time punishing my body that I’m so physically exhausted and won’t really be able to fuck her properly when she comes over tonight. I’ve been texting her saying how tired I am, trying to manage expectations, oh well.
Clothes will be dry in 7 minutes. I hate doing laundry. I had a moment of clarity recently when my maids said they will come twice a month for $50.00. Basically twice a month, while the maids