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there's something kind of beautiful about being physically uncomfortable to the point of pleasure. riding the bike hard and fast (ha) up a big hill, hurting so you can feel the rush of relief once you're at the top. hm. yes. there's THAT.
taking a moment to get my shit partially together these days. mailed in tax shit from the past two years, sticking with an elaborate daily biking routine, cutting way back on the dew-type-shit, taking my precious multivitamin pill almost daily. almost. feeling sort of very alive, until like 9pm when i CRASH. what's up with that? maybe it's the getting up at 6am. or maybe i should gradually reintroduce some dew back into my system. yes, dew, system, yes...
rationalizing my devotion to this job by lessening my attachment to it. if that makes sense. the job pays the bills, gets me up and out of the house in the morning, provides some social interaction. but i leave PROMPTLY at 4pm, don't look back, don't even THINK about it, start my own life. bike around this beautiful town, listen to music, see a movie, go for a walk, eat the fingers off some chickens. play with the bike(s), wash the truck (!) and maybe read the paper.
okay, wait. this sounds BORING AS SHIT. good god. i need MORE ARMY PANTS. keep my head on right, right? plaid pantry needs HOT DOGS. then everything would be FUCKING GREAT. (i mean cooked hot dogs. you know, ready to EAT.)
or maybe i need some of those ridiculous peanut butter cookies from the safeway bakery. giant, soft cookies. mushy. i am now drowning in saliva. christ.
maybe i should get back to ____. FUCK THAT. this is now and golden. GOLDEN, i tell you.
where the hell is my shopping cart?
taking a moment to get my shit partially together these days. mailed in tax shit from the past two years, sticking with an elaborate daily biking routine, cutting way back on the dew-type-shit, taking my precious multivitamin pill almost daily. almost. feeling sort of very alive, until like 9pm when i CRASH. what's up with that? maybe it's the getting up at 6am. or maybe i should gradually reintroduce some dew back into my system. yes, dew, system, yes...
rationalizing my devotion to this job by lessening my attachment to it. if that makes sense. the job pays the bills, gets me up and out of the house in the morning, provides some social interaction. but i leave PROMPTLY at 4pm, don't look back, don't even THINK about it, start my own life. bike around this beautiful town, listen to music, see a movie, go for a walk, eat the fingers off some chickens. play with the bike(s), wash the truck (!) and maybe read the paper.
okay, wait. this sounds BORING AS SHIT. good god. i need MORE ARMY PANTS. keep my head on right, right? plaid pantry needs HOT DOGS. then everything would be FUCKING GREAT. (i mean cooked hot dogs. you know, ready to EAT.)
or maybe i need some of those ridiculous peanut butter cookies from the safeway bakery. giant, soft cookies. mushy. i am now drowning in saliva. christ.
maybe i should get back to ____. FUCK THAT. this is now and golden. GOLDEN, i tell you.
where the hell is my shopping cart?
posted by Jesse at 7:54 AM
3 Comments:
also i just got a free credit report online (don't look at me) and now i feel sick. evidently the financial world thinks i am a huge asshole. my advice is to stay FAR THE FUCK away from such things.
jesus tittie fuck. seriously. why am i so disturbed by this? it's not like i didn't know full well what i was doing, getting student loans to avoid a job and then pretty much ignoring every piece of mail to arrive since. i should be HAPPY we live in a society where nothing bad is going to really happen to me. there's no debtors prison or whatever, no taxmen with whips.
fuck it, dude. let's go bowling.
yeah, fuck it.
i'm so there with you. i have constant fear about this choice i made to come here. and how nothing really good is going on with my job.
i've been struggling with opening my mail too. i know i need to. i know there's shit that i need to pay. and the ironic thing is that i have the money to pay it. i just have a hell of a time getting it in the american bank account i need it in to pay all these old-ass bills. so i pay with my credit card. which i then pay with patrick's american bank account, 'cause it has money in it. except then sometimes i don't pay it off because i hate using patrick's money, even though he doesn't seem to care and then next time i end up using even more of it because i didn't pay the last bill and now there's interest. holy fuck.
everything is more complicated here. don't ever leave the usa. don't ever leave portland.
if things were difficult in the usa, they're twice as fucked here. i need to get a german driver's license. i already paid and gave them my picture and everything. they were supposed to send me a letter telling me what to do next. that was 6 months ago. i never got a letter. so now i need someone's help to translate (because i don't have a high level of confidence in my german yet) that i need to take the test, like, now. and of course the licensing office is open totally weird-ass and unpredictable hours (monday 7:30-2:30, tuesday 11:00-6:00, wednesday only by appointment, thursday 11:00-6:00, friday 7:30-noon). seriously. i just copied those hours down from their website.
i'm within a hair's breadth of having a complete nervous break-down.
army pants are good.
army pants and maybe some hospital pants for evenings. also, write on a wife-beater or something.
i think clothing is a good remedy for real-world anxieties. maybe i'll write a series of self-help books under the name 'the garment doctor' and change the world.
and, as i may have stressed before, we all need to embrace everything. THIS is what the fuck we have and what the fuck we are. it's not like we're preparing for some greater abstract situation; THIS is the situation. and nothing's really all THAT serious. we have our feet and our wits, so let's make the most of them.
yesterday, i was all in a tizzy about the money stuff, but today i'm on top of the world. because it's SUNNY and FRIDAY and life remains beautiful regardless of the weird machinations of the computer/money shit. none of that is real. ARMY PANTS are real.
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