I am sitting in an airport tired. Surrounded by all the disjointed conversations. I got very little sleep because I was up until the early morning sharing conversation with my sister, brother and brother-in-law.
On Children:
I have never been that engulfed by childrens' energy before. They are at times delightful and at times equally or more so unpleasant. I don't know though. I was giving my one nephew a good bye hug and he said "I wuv you onkle Rishard." It's hard not to love that little guy. Given that they are already here we might as well make the best of it.
On Jamie Dimon:
My brother idolizes this guy. Jamie is his owner and master. I have gotten into it in the past over the 2008 fiasco and bitcoin but didn't really have the facts on the former. I was pretty pissed last night sitting there listening to him fawn over this fucking douchebag criminal but I didn't actually have any evidence to support my position and even if I did I am not sure I would want to unleash it. I am too tired to go searching for lucid sources right now but assuming I do should I unleash the evidence on my brother if he starts talking about what a genius CEO his company has?
Overall, it was a good trip. I don't get to spend quality time like that with my family basically ever anymore. I am looking forward to getting back home though. I really was missing some peace and quiet. I bet when I get the peace and quiet I will be missing some of the activity.
I suppose the prolificness of my blog writing has slowed down as of late. I have been traveling a lot and have not had much of a chance to post. It is a good thing.
I wanted to write about Father's Day. Bullshit is the first word that comes to mind. Celebrating natalism with more consumerism. Celebrating false immortality projects and God-complexes. "Exploit new markets or better exploit current ones" -Marx . Deuces.
I feel like telling the story of how I lost my virginity. I was extremely drunk. Surprise, surprise. We were at a strip club in Argentina which is really just a front for prostitution. This prostitute was very persuasive. I still to this day have not been kissed like that. We go to a motel. I am blindingly drunk, nervous, exited, seduced. I sit on the bed and she does a strip tease. She unbuttons my jeans and I take off my shirt. She gives me the best blow job of my life while fingering my prostate. I am in bliss. I remember feeling a little violated with a finger in my bumhole but it felt quite good so I just laid back and relaxed. After a while, pretty much when I was adequately hard she sat on my dick and rode me like a stallion. I wouldn't call myself a stallion. I'm no pornstar and certainly not in that moment. In that moment I was just an alcoholic nerd with anxiety problems fulfilling his dream to get laid by an attractive woman. Actually, she wasn't even all that attractive but her body was phenomenal. Large breasts that were bouncing when she was riding me and occasionally she would smother me with them as if it were a lap dance. I didn't last very long and had quite an enjoyable orgasm. I remember she took the condom off my penis and ate the semen straight from the condom. I was like what the fuck is she doing? That's kind of hot. Why do I think that's kind of hot?
She asked if I wanted to take a shower with her. I said no and got the hell out of there. I don't know if I carried a shame around with me. I was really just happy that I had finally lost my virginity and had gotten that out of the way.
I think I do carry a shame around with me with the amount of sexual partners I've had. I was supposed to be this sexually promiscuous playboy and I was not. The thing is when I have sex it is freeing in the moment and it is fun but even though I carry with me a certain confidence and feel good surrounding the experience I tend to feel a certain loneliness and emptiness even if the woman is lying there right next to me. Especially if she is lying there next to me. I enjoy the smell of her hair on the pillow the next morning after she has gone. I think I carry with me a certain swagger but then there is also a deep existential loneliness. Sex was supposed to liberate me. Take me to a higher plane. It was supposed to be the solution and sadly it is not. I have a hole in my soul and sex is not the missing puzzle piece. It's important for me to have a sane dating life and ideally monogamous relationships. We have been through this many times I believe but it is something I have to hammer home. I have to watch it with substances, gambling, capitalism, materialism, consumerism, sex, et al. The substances seem actually pretty easy these days. I just abstain. But, I constantly have to make wagers in an uncertain world, deal in a capitalist society, and I have to consume to some degree. I don't have to take part in any materialistic mirage anymore. I supposed I can abstain from sex but I think I can be "right sized" about it. Time will tell. It's more freeing letting go some of these toxic masculine cultural norms than it is to come inside of a women or on her or on some sheets.
I feel that I should write this to see if it works. I am still a little amped up after my job interview today.
I have been anxious about it mildly. This morning I passed the time and woke up like I always do with some Monster Energy Drinks and LP. There were no aesthetic concerns in the gym whatsoever today. Oh, by the way, sorry Loco, I was on Tinder and a girl had Avicii "True" on her album list or whatever it is and I thought to myself "was that album as shitty as I remember?" so I listened to "True" and it was as shitty as I remembered but then I felt bad because I think Avicii killed himself because he wanted to be a true musician but was not BUT he was incredible at curating music. That was his talent. He was making a new album which probably sucked and he knew it and he would rather kill himself than go on tour as a DJ. Of course, there is depression and alcoholism involved in that story too but I always felt like Avicii was my brother. Anyways, that may have gotten rather long winded but the point is I listened to Avicii's INSPIRATION mix on Spotify instead of Dead Congregation this morning for my lifting session.
So, yeah, no aesthetic concerns today I was going full throttle. My goal was to expend as much energy as possible over the course of training. I got that lovely rush of feel good chemicals and that sweaty, tired but energized haze. I love that. I got some post workout nutrition and then started looking at the sweet shop's webpage. Then I decided to read some "Infinite Jest." Then I got lost in "infinite Jest." Thankfully I set an alarm clock or I would have just kept on reading. I've been watching some of his (David Foster Wallace) interviews on YouTube and I love this guy. Truly love this guy. I love the way he reacts to stupid questions. I love his facial ticks when he is self-conscious about the answer he just gave. I love what he has to say. I love what he has to write. A truly beautiful human being.
Ok. So, now I am snapped back to reality that I have a job interview in a little bit. The anxiety starts to sink in. I was actually pretty nervous on the ride down. Then there is crazy beach traffic as it started to rain and everyone is trying to leave. I still get there at a reasonable time. I am feeling ok actually. The General Manager is late so now I have to sit and be tortured for who knows how long. A friendly woman gets me some water. My hand is shaking as I drink the water. Some mixture of nerves, anxiety, and perhaps my lithium levels being too high but my lithium seems to exacerbate any adrenaline, anxiety, caffeine, etc. anyways with hand tremors even at a normal level. I decide to just start texting anyone I can. I am actually quite funny when I am in that mode. Finally, the GM says hi and shakes my hand. I'm surprisingly not that nervous or anxious. Just a good amount. Maybe I was too intense. But, I can be an intense person. Oh, I have to tell you this. What felt right to me at the time was what I wear pretty much every day. Black t-shirt, flowery linen shorts, and sandals. I figure if they don't like me so be it. I thought the interview went ok. The GM loves Argentina too so we started off on a good chat about that. He made a positive comment about my sandals being Havainas. I applied to work in the sweet shop. Basically serving ice cream to people. I figure it's something to do and I can learn about how a shop like that runs. My sister and brother-in-law are thinking about opening up a coffee shop and I thought it would be awesome to help them do that but I want experience so there I was at the interview and it turns out they need someone in the kitchen. It sounds like they need people bad in the kitchen and I am like fuck. It's funny because the restaurant portion is actually one of the best restaurants in the city. If I was looking to be a chef this would be a dream but I am not looking to be a chef and I am not sure I can stomach being in a kitchen again. Fuck. So, now I am interviewing with the Sous Chef and he is a cool guy. Oh, also I told them that I only want to work 30 hours a week and they are kind of scratching their heads. That is the minimum hours for benefits and he kind of gives me this speech that they are looking for serious people that take this seriously for 40-50 hours a week and I was like I don't know what to tell you I'd like to see what it's like first and ideally be cross trained on different things. There was a lot we talked about. Then we talked about our love of coastal Maine and then we said our goodbyes and I was free to walk to my car and get the hell out of there.
I was amped. Really amped. Fuck. I don't know what to do. I talked to my parents. They both think I should take whatever job they offer me and maneuver to other jobs once I'm in. That seems reasonable. Fuck. I don't know what to do. Let's get some fresh air and go to the beach and give the dog a walk. I was like totally in myself. Contemplating everything. Fuck. I don't know what to do. So, here I am now writing and I am feeling better. I still don't really know what to do. "But, you just wanted to chill out and help run a small sweet shop." "You're a misfit. Misfits are made for the kitchen. It's more money. The Sous Chef was cool. Think of what it would be like working under those chefs at one of the best restaurants in the city." Fuck. I don't know what to do. He's going to call in a couple of days. What the hell do I say?
You know the one thing about today is I am pretty sure I was completely honest about what I felt at the time. So, really, I should feel pretty good.
Life was the fucking WORST sitting there driving into the shop late and then having to sit in there and wait for 30 min. Fucking agony. I think only people with anxiety know what I am talking about. I mean most people have anxiety but I am still sitting there wondering if the panic attack is going to go off. It's not like I ever known when. I mean I know the warning signs but it can hit me like a strike of lightning. I think it might be confined to AA which it still feels like my life is terrible and why do I have to go through this but I'll take today. I'll take it.
I think it was good that I was honest and held my ground on some points. I'm not putting up with manipulation. He basically said working part time is high school, childish shit and for teenagers. I would rather work 30 hours a week than 40 hours a week right now. The negotiations were a little weird to be honest. Actually, a lot of the interview was a little weird to be honest. I am a bit of an oddball. He's trying to fill a 40-50 hour/wk prep cook job and I am being difficult. It's mostly because I don't know what I want to do. I think I have some leverage because I'm willing to walk if I don't get what I want. The problem is I don't know what I want. They have leverage because I don't have any other offers on the table at the moment which they know because I told them the truth and they are one of the best restaurants in the city BUT they may have an inkling that I'm a crazy fuck and will throw it all away and I don't actually care that they are one of the best restaurants in the city because I don't have any aspirations of becoming a chef. That's not entirely true. I've never been a line cook or a junior Sous Chef. That kind of gets me interested at this calibre restaurant. We are back at this. It would be amazing for my resume if I wanted to be a chef but I don't want to be a chef but culinary arts is kind of interesting but being a prep cook sucks so what do I fucking do?
All this ruminating and they might like someone more than me. But, he did say he would call in a couple of days so I hope some sort of strategy develops and that I can make the right wager. Which will probably just be me being honest about how I feel at the time. I don't know any other way to live.
It's here again. I N S O M N I A . My old friend. I remember back when I was alcoholic I'd drink a shit ton to pass out but then I would inevitably be up again and drinking again. Fill a tumbler full of red win and drink and write until I felt like passing out again. Well, here I am again. I MUST write. It saves me.
I had been wanting to write on bourgeois for a while. I got a mind full of Marx and a heart full of the C.N.T. and F.A.I. Proletariat 'til I die! But, then I got invited out to play golf by a multi-millionaire friend. I was raised at the country club. I like the guy so I did not want to refuse. It was a nice country club. I'm glad he paid. I am too poor to be playing golf really and I think he knows this. It would have been a big expense for me and it's a drop in the bucket for him. That doesn't mean I feel entitled to it but I think socially in that situation if a multi-millionaire invites a broke guy out to play golf he's got the bill? So, my friend was not the wage slave he was the OWNER of a business for 30 years until he got tired of California sold his share of the company and moved here. Then some Army corporate sales guy joins up with us. You don't find too many non-conservatives on a nice country club. Can I really blame them though? I was thinking in their shoes I might be a conservative too. After a few beers after the round the sales guy was opening up about how he didn't like his job and felt trapped. He called it golden hand cuffs. He's got shares in the company and compensation and he hates the traveling and he's got his family. He was 44. It was kind of interesting to see. It's something that I kind of learned at 30 and am continuing to learn. This guy is not really trapped by "golden handcuffs." He's trapped by property. He's got the 2 kids, he wants the certain house, he wants to play golf at country clubs. Which by the way there is no fucking sport more bourgeois than golf? Fucking manicured landscaping, all of it to get a little ball in a little hole. There's the immaculate club house and all the wage slaves and all of the tipping. I had a blast though. I can't lie. Out on this immaculate piece of land smoking a fine cigar among fellows.
I am like pseudo-fake proletariat. I grew up privileged. I was technically below the poverty line last year but not really. I live with my parents in a 3 bedroom townhouse in a neighborhood full of rich retirees and rich professionals. I don't pay rent. My parents probably covered about $1,000 worth of food last year. But, I can see the bourgeois for what it is. The vulgarianism the phillistinism. I wonder if people on LP have this dream of the house, the 2.5 kids and the white picket fence? I never did but I've probably said it a few times I had the dream of being the business unit president and living in a penthouse in Lincoln Park, Chicago. I really felt for that salesman we golfed with. He was talking about having a meltdown with the marketing department. People get accustomed to a certain way of living and they can barely keep up and anything outside of "growth and development" is unacceptable. We all except growth and development just like the corporations. If everyone grows and develops the corporation will grow and develop and the owners will pile up capital. Human development has nothing to do with money or how much stuff one can acquire.
Being out golfing though made me kind of cynical. It's such a different world out there on the country club. I knew this as a kid but I didn't really know. I had never struggled. I had never truly struggled. I reject the bourgeois. I can understand the bourgeois but I reject it. The scammed class but the proletariat is the scammed class too. My friend is not really scammed. He owned his company got out and now lives comfortably in a multi-million dollar house overlooking the water. He's got capital to spare. He doesn't really spare it. That's party why he moved to Charleston. The policy for retirees is some of the best in the country. See rich people know stuff like that.
I can dream of a classless society but I still think we are pretty far away. It will help when all the baby boomers die. Even the lefty ones... See, that is one of the reasons I can get by in political discussion because I dislike most politicians so if anyone says anyone I probably dislike them. I think the only one I like is Bernie Sanders and maybe Elizabeth Warren. But, like lefty baby boomer love Bill Clinton and Hillary Clinton. Actually, I started talking shit about Bill Clinton today and even my conservative friend's face kind of winced. Bill Clinton was just a neoliberal economics BITCH just like every other fucker in office for the past 30 years?
The air conditioning just kicked in. It feels good. I have air conditioning. How much of the world doesn't?
Black swallowtail and magenta flowers,
My bipolar gives me superpowers,
Manic like the sun,
Makes life more fun,
The sleep disturbances could be a sign of manic but I am tired and not energized. That cigar made me high today. I should probably avoid that poison. I was already thinking about smoking outside of the AA meeting. Coffee, God, and cigarettes it's all that I need.
There is a Gil Scot-Heron and Jamie xx song playing it always reminds me of the bars in Northwest Indiana. When I was new there I would just get drunk at home and then go out bar hopping IN A CAR, BY MYSELF because I was a crazy asshole. There was this one particular bar who had a bartender that was more attractive than Scarlett Johansson. Maybe not Kate Upton but you are really starting to be petty at this point. She was smoking. Classic blonde beauty with big tits who also had a cool style and most of all was cool AF. I remember I was doing everything in my power to make her laugh and impress her with out being that guy ya know? I was actually making her laugh. Of course she is serving me as a wage slave but I remember on like 3, 4, 5, 6, etc. drinks I could be rather charming. I was lifting weights and doing construction work in the mills I was a physical specimen. I had my designer clothes. I remember there was a group of people having a birthday party and I bought shots for the entire party but told them to leave me anonymous. I was just fucking around having a good time. The bartenders starting giving me free shots. I had a rule that I would only have 3 drinks at a place before moving to the next place because then they wouldn't think I was drinking too much. Plus, I wanted to end on a good note. It would have been easier in Chicago with public transit. The birthday party group could have been potential friends but I was fixated on I think her name is Stephanie or we'll just call her Stephanie. I still remember that low cut blue dress she was wearing. I remember in that same night actually I went to the next bar and won trivia playing by myself like 10 drinks in. Then I drove to the bar closer to my place for a few drinks trawling for pussy. Then I drove home and really started drinking.
I never asked Stephanie out. I only went to that bar one other time. They all remembered me and gave me a free shot of tequila. Around this same time I started dating a baaad black girl who was a doctor. She was kind of weird in a good way. That gave me a lot of confidence. I was getting "netflix and chill?" texts from randos I had spent a night with in a bar or a club. Life was good. My drinking problem just didn't seem like a problem at that point. I thought the problem was I wasn't living in Chicago (which it was). Stephanie, coincidentally, is the name of my sister's best friend that I have had a crush on since high school. The way we flirt and the way we hug leads me to believe something more could be there but that is also just her personality to be a bit of a flirt and a tease. God, that backless red dress she wore to my sister's wedding was RIDICULOUS. But, alas, the woman for me was M. Anarchist, atheist, anti-natalist, alcoholic, cool AF. I messed that up on multiple occasions. I mean really made a shit show of it. Who knows who the woman is for me?
I was going to write more and maybe I will at some point. Well, I will for sure at some point. I don't even really know why I post this stuff sometimes. Probably, for discourse and attention honestly but it actually shouldn't be reduced to just that.
I can't figure out what the deal is with the Peace Corps. Why is there so much marketing on the website? Why do they have recruiters? Is it basically a public relations gig for the USA? I did a lot of research today but not enough. Do these places really need the services offered? I don't know. I think I would prefer a 6 month tour of duty rather than a 2 yr tour of duty.
Then I am looking up non-profits. It's all fundraising, manipulating the media and lobbying policymakers. Greenpeace seems pretty solid but there weren't any openings that made sense for me.
Then I am thinking why don't I use my skills in history and the humanities to teach these kids how to write, how to seek the truth, and wake them up a bit.
I do really wish there was a computer that decided what jobs I should do for me. I am just applying to coffee shops and cafes. I think I might be dead in the water anyway since I can't start until June 25. I just get a feeling doing this mundane work for the masters to make capital is a backup for something more. I am picking coffee shops mostly because my sister and brother in law and I want to start a coffee shop some day and make it a collective. Plus I think it would be a relatively chill job to do for say 24-32 hours a week while I can continue to figure this stuff out.
a person's sense of self-esteem or self-importance.
self-esteem
confidence in one's own worth or abilities; self-respect.
self-image
the idea one has of one's abilities, appearance, and personality.
I believe everything was cool as a kid. I played on the traveling soccer A-team, had plenty of friends, did well in school, had loving parents. I think things got a bit tricky in high school. I remember taking some vicodins, drinking a whole bottle of Kahlua, and watching pro wrestling tapes on this crummy little tv until I passed out. There was transcendence in watching Mitsuharu Misawa vs. Toshiaki Kawada art. I wasn't really a prep, I wasn't really a jock, I wasn't really a nerd, I wasn't really a skater, I wasn't really a punk, I wasn't really a goth but I got along with all these people. I loved drinking. I loved marijuana. This is starting to sound like my AA lead. I loved Diablo II, I loved warcraft 3. I remember Warcraft 3 hit the summer after my senior year and I was immersed in it. I mostly missed out on BroodWar. My brother played it heavily and I was too into sports at the time. But, Warcraft 3 got me. I was in it. That's all I did. My roommates in college called it Warcrack. I would have attractive women tell me I should come out with them and I was too focused on Warcraft 3. I got into the TFT beta. I started taking the game even more seriously. I wanted to go pro but I wasn't even that good. I remember one summer they had online qualifications for WCG. I was practicing a lot that summer and was pretty dialed in. I got pretty close but no cigar. One of my clanmates got a contract. I remember that's maybe when I improved the most when we were doing interclan obs games just over and over and over. Mixing with other good clans. You take a game off of someone really good or at least stay competitive it's like the micro wars are zoned in. It's action the whole game. But, most people on this site probably don't care about War 3 either. So...
Poker. Or, maybe I should talk about finally having a handful of great friends in my suitemates at university. Oh man, that was good times. They even put up with me playing Warcraft 3 all the time. But, let's talk about self-image. Four of the guys were black and they were the coolest of the bunch. So, I naturally drifted towards them. We would go shopping for "black people" clothes. From my appearance I was a wigger. Business school wasn't an education it was an indoctrination. Fucking horrible classes and teachers. I had this one professor lecturing on history in a way I never had run into before. It was exciting. That's what I was going to do. I remember watching Phil Ivey and Chip Reese on the tv and I was mesmerized. A group of guys played a home game in the apartment complex. You could tell certain guys were "good" and certain guys were dead money. One of the guys was playing 400 NL online. I figured if he could do that I could do that. I remembered Tillerman saying he was playing poker. I did some research online and found out about Rek and Elky and everyone. I put $150 online. I think I was playing NL 5 or NL 10 because I remember thinking at the time how big NL 25 felt. Oh, I remember sometimes my computer was breaking down and I would be furious that I couldn't play. I was always fucking around with like omaha 8 or better, 7 card stud, limit holdem. Yeah, I actually started with limit holdem. I had hand charts and figured out pot odds but I didn't really go anywhere until I focused solely on NLHE. Once I made that decision to stop fucking around and own NLHE I was up to NL 200 in no time. Straate and me we flew up the ranks. We used to fucking battle man. Always trying to be the table captain. Then he asked me if I wanted to share an apartment with him and some people in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Actually that was a bit later. The summer after college I went to my first WSOP and hung out with Tom, Ket, and Rainkhan. THESE WERE MY PEOPLE! I loved it out there in Vegas. We were so Vegas green it's not even funny. Man, now I am remembering even before that talking to like Arya and Tien about hands and about life for hours on messenger or whatever the fuck we were using then. These were my people. Then I go down to Argentina and I'm surrounded by my people.
I could talk more about ego, self-esteem, and self-image at some of these differing times. I won't go into the steel industry stuff either but with me a theme is that when things are gong well these things get elevated. Sometimes to grandiose levels. Especially when I'm manic. These things tend to hit the bottom when things aren't going as well or when I am depressed.
Another thing too. If I'm unemployed and not really doing much besides reading that's going to have an effect on my self-esteem. Same with ego and self image. Even if what I'm reading is great. Of course, there is more that I want out of life.
I just talked about my career in the steel industry but I will say when I had the most profitable account in NAFTA my ego, and my self-esteem, and my self-image rose to unhealthy and grandiose levels. I thought about stabbing my company in the back for a 6 figure contract (or commission). I thought about becoming the President of the business unit. I thought about moving to a penthouse in Lincoln Park, Chicago. But, keep in mind this distorted reality was full of chinks of insecurity that my dad had a hand in all of it. I mean he did in a way. I wouldn't be here or there if it wasn't for him. Another thing too is I am more of an introvert. I actually really do enjoy talking to people from different walks of life but I fucking LOVED to get home fill up a glass, take a shower, and spend some time by myself. Now, I couldn't bear myself so I needed at least a bottle of wine before I could relax and another bottle before I could really get into the zone. I didn't know these things at the time.
So, I want to address the idea that my will and ego was broken after these experiences because I believe it is an interesting insight.
After poker, yes, very much so. My ego went to thinking that it was going to make $2million/yr at 25/50 to being broke and busted and useless. I was so resentful that I wanted to murder people. I couldn't own up to the facts so I lied to everyone. But, I think I built it back. I started training and flushing the resentments away. I remember reading "Crime and Punishment" and it had a profound impact on me. I remember reading "Nausea" by Jean Paul Sartre and finally there was someone who understood. I read "Being and Nothingness" and it became my bible. I read Nietzsche. I read "Notes from the Underground" and "The Idiot." I was piecing myself back together. My ego could have been the healthiest when I was just that sales laborer learning and drinking socially. There's something about learning and not abusing alcohol/drugs and not being mentally ill that is good for the ego. Also, keep in mind I was drinking socially at that time. That's a rare thing for me.
Let's fast forward to rehab and the psych ward. Ego is at ZERO. I can't even function without boatloads of psych meds. Then I go on vacation for six months. I can't even begin to explain how beautiful a city Paris is but imagine that coming out of severe suicidal ideations and being so psychotic I literally thought I had travelled through all the depths of hell and back. Like, that's actually what happened. That was my reality. I travelled through far away galaxies and then thought I was stuck out there until I died but then I miraculously made my way back in a sort of Gravity 2.0 experience. I actually had thought this stuff had happened to me. It feels like it did happen to me. So, I am reading Nabokov and I am traveling around encountering vast beauty everywhere I go. I am reading Tolstoy, I am reading Joyce. It feels like a second psychic change. My ego is probably exactly where it needs to be at this point.
But, then I go back to work. I have no idea how to live life sober. FUCK! I need those God people don't I? I jump in that lifeboat. I have been in AA for a while and I don't think people really care about AA so I don't want to go too much into it. I will say this. In AA, God is everything and you are nothing. That's what humility means to them. We alcoholics have problems with our egos so we need God to help. But, I don't believe in God so that basically leaves me with ZERO ego and ZERO self-esteem. Developing a non-God ego or self-esteem is looked down about. It's looked at as selfish, self-centered, self-willing. I haven't worked a stimulating job in 5 years. A job I actually feel pretty good about. Oh also, I am not supposed to have a will. AA calls that self-will. It's what got me into all my problems. I should live in "God's will." They force fed me this shit for 2 years. Now, I just go for the solidarity and the fellowship and to meet with friends. It's really not ideal. I still have a sponsor. He is always telling me to go to more meetings. I can't really help many people since I am an atheist that doesn't believe in most of this crap but it was indoctrinated into me when I was desperate and it still sometimes feels that my brain is working it's way through it. But, I realize this stuff today.
To be honest, I believe that my ego, self-esteem, and self-image are in a pretty good place today. Now, would it be better if I had a job I liked, I saw my friends more, better friends, didn't live with my parents, and had a girlfriend? Well, who really fucking knows but I would wager that yes it would have a positive effect on my ego. And, I realize it all kind of starts with the occupation. And, that depresses me because I have been going through occupations my whole life and nothing seems to be quite right. It's why I think I should try out the non-profit sector or the public sector.
So, I have been doing a bit more earnest job seeking as of late and this shit is fucking hard. Especially with a mind full of anarcho-syndicalism, Catalonia, Chomsky, et al. It makes me want to not do it so I went to one of my favorite outlets LP. It just all looks unpleasant. It's just a sea of these corporations and it is like no I don't want to sell Nike shoes to people, no, unfortunately I am not an engineer, no, I don't want to be a cashier for your bourgeois organization. I don't want to complain about that anymore. So, I watched a bunch of Noam Chomsky YouTube videos.
I think the best I can hope for these days is some form of end in itself with minimal authority. Somewhat agreeable scheduled shifts, not too much of an overbearing overseer although there are security cameras everywhere these days. I had a friend tell me, "It's work. That's why they call it fucking work." Can we do better than that? Meh, I don't want to obsess about this now. The reality is if I don't get work at some point I will starve so by renting MYSELF, MY LABOR out for wages this is wage slavery. Anytime I start talking about this people mostly get defensive. They hate me. They hate the fact that I am free even if it is just for 2-3 months. It was similar to when I was playing poker for a living. I had figured out a way to beat the system. I think the fact that there was no overseer, no schedules, something that I liked to do it may beat out the hollowness felt at times. I don't know though. Some of those depressions were the worst.
I think about being a history professor. But, I don't exactly like the specialization. I like bigger picture. Including philosophy, sociology, anthropology, economics, etc etc etc etc. I would rather go broad and complex than narrow and specialized. I don't want to study the significance of the red scarves in the battles of Catalonia I want to talk about what that revolution means for the future. I would like to actually delve into the 100 million number in relation to MARXISM and Leninism, Stalinism, and Maoism. It all gets lumped under communism and that isn't fair. Also, where does anti-communism come from exactly and are the criticisms fair?
But, here I go again "typing" and "talking" about what I am going to do instead of just doing it. Fuck it, hopefully my Kindle is done charging so I can continue reading "Homage to Catalonia" by Orwell. Pretty good stuff. I get educated on anarchy, communism, and annarchist communist revolutions. Pretty fucking cool.
So, I am going to deal with narcissistic self-repeating by powering through it with narcissistic self-repeating.
I'll start by talking about my physical appearance.........
I was in the gym to fend off depression..... and let's be honest sculpt my own masterpiece. My therapist was the one that suggested I start exercising. Anyways I just got in there and did a little ditty. Got after it on a couple of exercises chest and a couple on shoulders. I am really just looking for a bit of delineation in the chest which has a greater effect at lower body fat percentages. It's mostly about the shoulders and the arms (triceps)..... Ok, I can't really keep this going I'd rather talk about:
There is a young lady in the gym. Of course, there always is...... I don't want to talk about this either.
Here:
I do want to talk about this. I used to look down on people that wear Nike but who am I? I had 100% Bread and Boxers on and my barefoot shoes. Nike probably makes good shoes. I spent $100+ on my shoes. They spend $100+ on Nikes. Actually a Nike shirt is probably cheaper than the shirt I was wearing. Same with the shorts. Same with the underwear. My clothes have no branding.... That clearly doesn't make me or the clothes better. My beef with Nike is neoliberalism and exploiting foreign labor. I tried a lot of shirts until I found Bread and Boxer. The cheap price points fall apart and just don't drape the right way. Bread and Boxer the fabric is a bit nicer. They drape how I like. They have lasted for years. To be honest I don't know how they are made. They mentioned they are designed in Sweden which means they probably are not made there or else they would have mentioned it. You kind of have to be in the business of exploiting foreign labor to make it in that game. So, I'm hypocritical. It's part of why I love Patagonia. Their goal is to move as much as possible to fair trade. It's why I am paying attention to Kanye West. He has said he wants to make Yeezy a charity eventually. The cynical person can say it's marketing, etc. I'd say at least it's a start. I don't really know how the clothing industry would look in the future. We have all these great factories to make clothes. Why not organize and make the clothes for the people? We wouldn't have to use the best fabrics but I wouldn't want the worst either. Automate everything as fast as possible and get to a universal basic income.
Communes.
I virtually lived on a commune for a week in Buenos Aires. It was a hostel but all of my roommates were big time hippies. I remember the guy took 2 condoms out of my bag and left a beaded necklace in it's place. I was fucking pissed that he was looking through my stuff at the time. Looking back on it it's entertaining. The beaded necklace was pretty awesome actually. Definitely worth more than 2 condoms. Not for a guy about to get laid!!! I always ran into really interesting people at hostels. I kind of miss that.
Maybe I will try to not purchase another pair of clothing for the rest of my life. That would be difficult. Boxer briefs is one item I want new from Bread and Boxers.
One of my best friends from poker always had the vision of being a part of a commune. He is back playing poker unfortunately but it is funding quite a nice marijuana farm in Uruguay. The farm is an end in itself and I hope to visit one day. Hemp has so many uses. Cannabinoids have so much potential.
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