sup

I have been drawn to stories recently. My kindle is almost out of batteries so figured I would write a blog and then walk the dog. I start my new job on Monday. I am actually a bit nervous about it. I know it is not the most prestigious job or anything like that but there are some nerves. It will be occupying 40 hours of my week. That is a lot of time. It will likely cover my current expenses. That seems to me to hit the basics of what people are looking for in jobs. I worry I will not like it. That I will be trapped there for 40 hours just to make ends meet. Welcome to the real world? I don't know. On the bright side I will be on my feet creating food. Perhaps I will meet some cool people. I guess I really don't have any expectations nor do I really want to put any expectations on the experience.

How do I spend my days now? I go on tangents. There is the Nietzsche tangent, the Hitchens tangent. I finished "Beyond Good and Evil" a few days a go and just don't really have the craving to continue to "The Genealogy of Morals." It was a fun trip to finally finish "Thus Spake Zarathustra" and "Beyond Good and Evil" but I have had my fill for now of Nietzsche. "Beyond Good and Evil" would have been a really good book to cover in some discussion class. I read it and was like ok this is pretty cool but I am sure I was missing some details or some cool insights. It can be quite the dense book at times where almost every sentence has layers to it. Oh well.

Recently I found myself on a Marion Cotillard tangent. I love her. I am watching all of her movies and then I watch interviews before or after. This brought me to an Audrey Tatoe interview which brought me to a random video and then I got hooked on this blue haired girl from France named Antastesia. I liked her videos on veganism and literature and then she comes out as an asexual. I found it all fascinating and it took up a lot of the day yesterday.

In this sense I am sure it will be healthy to get into the pizza shop and be helpful. I am kind of loving this rekindled passion for film and literature though. It started with reading Nabokov's review of "Demons" and Dostoevsky in general. Nabokov said he was a playwright whose plays are too long lol. I won't go on about that but I think the novel is one of the finest art forms. It can be so rich and so enchanting and is not confined to 2 hours. The imagination must be used. Film can be quite enchanting as well. It is all about the stories. I am a story addict.

I think it's time to take the dog for a walk. Au revoir.

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I just remembered it was July 4. Independence Day for the U.S.A. Is it bad that nationalism can have the effect of sickening me? The U.S. is not a bad place to be all things considered but I have a hard time believing it is the greatest nation in the world. Especially when many proclaiming this have not been to anywhere else in the world. "But why should I?" they exclaim "The U.S. is the greatest nation in the world!" I'm listening to Bach to drown out my dad watching Trump downstairs. I usually only like writing when I am alone in silence but this will do. I can not escape the absurdity of the U.S.A. on a day like today. No, partying for me today. I am watching my little somewhat crazed nephew of one and a half years old. He cracks me up but he is also a terror of endless energy and audacity. It is for the better that we all stay in nothingness than to be brought into being with out any consultation but once they get here let us make the best of it! I am rooting for his mother to put him to bed early and that I don't hear a peep coming out of his room.

I wish to be stateless but if I could live anywhere it would have to be Paris, France. Maybe Denmark, or Sweden, or Berlin, Germany. It is really hard to tell what the "greatest" country would be. It all depends on the individual as well. One suited for Paris, Texas may not be suited for Paris, France.

I got a job. I will be working at a pizza shop. The wage will be keeping me at peasant status. I came across this quote the other day by Nietzsche:

"The best and dearest to me at present is still a sound peasant, course, artful, obstinate and enduring: That is at the present the noblest type."

So, I will continue to live as a sound peasant.

Except when I am golfing with my father. I found myself on the 6th or the 7th hole of this one particular course and I found myself lost in paradise. It was as if it was a mirage. I don't really have any business being on nice country clubs anymore but I did not play particularly well but felt transcended anyways. The sweet spot is bliss. I am liberated by a good shot. Sweet spots and scenery make for a great way to pass the time. If only I were not a peasant and could take this game more seriously.

I am sure I will be back on here in 3 months complaining about my new job and the peasant life. What can I do next is already a consideration. Sometimes I wish I was back as a student or a free wheeling, free spirited poker player. Those were the days and they may not ever get better. I only decay more as time goes by. Actually, the only time I really regret was my tour of duty as a multinational corporation sales rep turned alcoholic. Those were dark days. There were still some bright spots but multinational corporations are places where people like me go to die.

So, I must continue living as a sound peasant. I consulted Cioran on what one must do. Bach and Dostoevsky was the solution and of course writing.

"Our works, whatever they may be, derive from our incapacity to kill or to kill ourselves."

I like what he has to say on suicide too. It is so true that I love having the option to drink, to shoot heroin, to kill myself. Maybe I don't indulge. Maybe I indulge in all 3. For the time being I have found other things to do. I can not or will not kill myself at the moment so I better find some other things to do to deal with that. I will find other things to do. My mind does not like the thought of death and decay so will snap into some illusion or delusion. Life goes on. Existence in the absurd continues.

Does power make life better?

We are all going to decay and die but does power make that existence smoother?

The beautiful struggle some call it. The buddhists would say we must detach. We must not struggle. It is all striving for what? It is all illusion.

My nephew has a backside full of poop. I will likely die before him but no one knows. The fragility of life can strike at any moment. It makes me want to race fast cars and travel the world. Live dangerously and climb mountains as Nietzsche would say. One of my favorite days on this planet was watching the sunrise and climbing a mountain. Today, I have pastry and french roast coffee and Bach and writing on liquidpoker with my nephew flying around like a gnat. I love this gnat but he is a gnat regardless. I have many days that I have enjoyed on this earth. Many days that I have not enjoyed. There was the day I won $20,000 in Rosario, Argentina and got scalped 5th row center line for Argentina v Brazil. That whole trip was a dream. I love Argentina. If only my Spanish were not better. If only, if only, if only. So many "if only."

I am the sound peasant living my life. Suicide is great to keep in the back pocket or maybe somewhat hidden in a filing cabinet somewhere. I am the sound peasant that wants more. I wish to go to beaches and get a better 3 wood. I wish to meet today's LP. I wish to reunite with yesteryear's LP. In all honesty, I need some friends. Phone calls do not amount to much. Nothing like sitting outside at a cafe in a cool early autumn day. Taking a walk through the city. Having a seat at a welcoming patio. Coffee and cigarettes. What an amazing combination. I no longer smoke. I no longer wish to smoke. I am only a slave to psych meds today but obviously I still think about smoking cigarettes, I still think about marijuana, red wine, champagne, mdma, cocaine, mushrooms, heroin. I don't need comfort in the form of a substance today. Bring me reality. Illusion is unavoidable but bring me reality. I don't want to die. What can make me immortal even if it is not real? I want the the blue pill, please give me the blue pill. I want the blue pill, please give me the blue pill! Just a moment before I wanted the red pill but it is too much. I am weak. Ok, ok. Now, I would like the red pill. I am ready.....................

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I don't speak falsehoods, I am sober, I am mentally healthy, and I am physically healthy. I live on about $1,000/month. Sometimes a bit less and sometimes a bit more. My parents are covering that for the time being. What am I lacking? Income, friends, and creative works of art. We have been over the income. I could be doing a better job at searching for one. I feel guilty that I am taking advantage of my parents. Friends can be a tough one. I have a ton of great friends in Pittsburgh, PA. If you have been following along I don't live there anymore. It has been tough making friends here. I haven't really been up for any meetup.com stuff. I have only sporadically been going to AA meetings. It seems a lot tougher this time around. When I got clean and sober in Pittsburgh over 3 years ago I knew no one in that city and seemed to get together some friends pretty quickly but I don't think that is entirely true. I am mostly happy just hanging out with the pets and watching tons of Netflix. Netflix and YouTube videos. I would like to discuss some of the stuff I am watching. I am also reading a fair amount. I liked when Loco suggested I read "Denial of Death" to "overcome my roadblocks." That was a fun project. I feel like there is still a lot I would like to discuss about that and on how to live life. I got back into some Sartre the other day too. The sum of my actions is a guy that lives in his parent's spare bedroom watching Netflix and YouTube videos hoping something stimulating will pop up on Liquidpoker.net. I don't think we have full freedom in choosing what we do with our lives. Our essence is not completely malleable. However, we are defined by what we do. I am a jobless bum that spends too much time on the internet. It is like I am not really an adult. One thing that I know is that I am not miserable. So, in many ways I am choosing this life because I know I am not miserable. I watched "Blue is the Warmest Color" last night and thought it was an excellent film. I crave a relationship like that. I crave my own version of Emma. Sometimes these things seem so far away. Another thing is the creative works of art. I always feel at my best when I am creating in someway. My friend was teaching me how to paint in Pittsburgh and there is really nothing here so far. I may look back into doing Improv or getting a legit stand up set together or trying to be a bit more inventive and get a short story in the works. Just something to get those creative juices going. I realize this has all been one big block of text. Oh well.

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I would say all of my blogs I just have some thoughts on my mind and get them down on paper. Formulate them if I can. PuertoRican suggested I add pictures to my blog. So, I am going to do a blog of pictures. I don't take a lot of pictures but here are some.

This is Syd the Kid (Sydney) on my bed. I write a lot about The Kid and my bed. I love my bed and spend too much time in it. Syd the Kid does to. He is my friend and companion. A great part of my day is taking long walks on the beach with him and throwing toys into the water for him to retrieve.

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I slept in my own bed last night. If was phenomenal. I didn't shake the habit of sleeping too much though. I rollover and look outside at the light. I rollover and look out my door. I have no reason to get up besides picking up the dog from the veterinarian hotel. I don't think it's called that but wherever you take dogs to stay while on vacation. It is like sleeping in is ingrained in my brain at home while on vacation I was up at 8am everyday. Oh well, probably a bigger issue is that I don't like not having choice in shitting and I am afraid of death. There is an African tribe that adorns butt plugs to show the tribe that they don't shit. Really, we excrete a vile waste out of our control, our bodies are pathetic meat vessels, and most of us die a determinist death. Dostoevsky says in killing oneself we become a god. The hero accepts mortality. This is what we are told. People crave immortality. It is part of their repression of death. Everyone better be perfect or it challenges the immortality symbol. It sobers the whole crew but repression and delusion and distortion is stronger. All of my psychotic breaks boil down to an unrepressed fear of death, a fear of hell, a fear of nothingness, of no longer existing with a consciousness. Imagine every second of every day engulfed in chaos and fears of how it is all going to end. Anxiety run amok. Do I need hero narratives or can I accept the facts of life? Just as someone can overcome a fear of elevators it is probably possible to overcome the fear of death. Most of these ideas came from "The Denial of Death" by Ernest Becker. Really great book so far I have to continue reading it.

I am a worm. I am a worm who eats worms. I am a god worm. I bleed, I vomit, I shit. The most highly trained Navy Seal is still just a pathetic meat vessel at the end of the day. The bullets will still kill amongst a host of other things. At least the Navy Seal can kill his neurosis by killing the enemy and being a “hero.”

So, this blog post is going to be disjointed. The “Denial of Death” stuff just sort of came out. I took a trip to NYC and Valley Forge over a long weekend. I might just write about some points. Sitting in a car all day to get there was ok. I listened to some JRE and other podcasts. Michael Malice was good. Thanks whaam!. Conversation with fellow travelers seems to be the best way to pass the time. I found a gameboy unpacking but not Tetris. I used to love playing Tetris. If I had a Nintendo DS it would have been Chrono Trigger time.

On NYC:

We took a train in and got there relatively early. I love walking the streets. So many beautiful women. So many different flavors. That diversity is hard to come by. I think the percentage of attractive women is hard to come by as well. I haven’t been to Sweden or Brazil though. I love the Modern Museum of Art. I was getting lost in Cezzanne and Monet paint strokes. I got yelled at for getting too close to Starry Night. They have everything there. Beauty abounds in NYC.

On the yuppie costume, the yuppie life:

So, back when I was an Account Manager making like $60k/yr I had dreams of living in $3k+/month apartments, having wardrobes of designer clothes, and consistently going out for fine dining. So what I would do is buy expensive pieces of stuff so I have like 2 full yuppie costumes. It’s like I carry them around for special occasions. Today, I pretty much wear bermuda shorts and t-shirts every day and much prefer this uniform. So, I have gained some weight. I am looking like a bloated stockbroker in these clothes but they still fit. The damndest thing, I am at this fancy NYC restaurant and it feels right to be wearing this costume. It feels good. I am not really wearing a mask. The truth is my parents are covering the dinner but it is not necessarily hurting my self esteem. Living with them does, not having an occupation does, but for whatever reason that night I am feeling good. I am just a guy who has some nice clothes getting free rolled at a nice restaurant in NYC. I don’t have dreams of moving to Soho or Tribeca or Brooklyn anymore. I’ll put on the costume if the situation calls for it. I can’t fight every cultural battle but I would much rather take the dog for a walk on the beach and stop in to the local spot for a burger.

On weddings:

The best wedding I ever went to was not even a wedding. My sister had a marriage celebration and she was not even married yet. My mom tried her best to make it a reception with all the associated celebrations and my sister was like fuck off. It was just a dinner and then a bar crawl. My sister and her partner finally got married in a ghetto ass chapel that only included exchanging vows and 0 people. The only reason my sister even got married was to get on her partner’s health insurance. That is my kind of wedding.

After NYC I went to Valley Forge for my cousin’s wedding. It was like every other wedding ever except it was outside and I was in a wool suit in 90 degree weather. I wanted to wear what Indians wear to weddings but I couldn’t find anything in time. I am doing this in the future. This is one area where I will fight a cultural battle. If someone has their wedding outside I am wearing fucking Indian wedding attire.

It was good to see some family and it is great that my cousin is in love and has found somebody. I did not know many people at the wedding and had already talked a lot with my cousins the prior day. I don’t drink and did not feel like dancing so the “Party” section of the wedding was really boring. I went away from the loud music (and the wedding) and talked to friends on the phone. Maybe that makes me a bad guest but fuck it. Would I have a wedding if it guaranteed that I would make $100,000 in gifts? Would I have a wedding if it would please my family’s vanity? My ideal marriage is getting married to a stripper and doing heroine in the bathroom. No, that is just my knee jerk reaction to certain aspects of culture. I may have problems. I do have problems. Oh well, looking at this Monet above my computer calms me down and makes me happy so I will do more of that.

On cab drivers with life advice:

I had a cab driver yesterday that basically told me to find Christ, watch college football, get married, and have children. He told of his brother who he labeled as lonely that died alone to a diabetic incident. Then he rationalized and justified why having grandchildren was so great. The thing is he was 70 and had seen a lot. Where is the truth in this? Grandchildren probably are great. All the fun and non of the hassle. One has to have children in order to have grandchildren though. I don’t like the proposition of having children. I have no idea what I am going to be doing when I am 40-60 but sometimes the outlook looks grim. 60-80 seems even worse. That does not mean I should be going around having children as some sort of solution to this.

There is nothing like living vicariously through 18-22 year old college football players “going to battle.” The hero narratives are strong in sports. Reality tv. Gladiator games for the masses. A different kind of opium. No thanks.

Marriage is an interesting one. I would prefer to just have a loving partner. I would probably be the one getting married to get on her health insurance. The data shows partners get a little bit happier after getting married and then it tails off. The data shows bad marriages are incredibly miserable affairs but divorce obviously leads to some happiness. It does not seem like a good proposition.

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It is all so simple:

Go on some dates. If you like each other then fuck. Go on some more dates. If you still like each other get into a relationship.


This simplicity alluded me for many years. I don't know what I was thinking in high school. It is like that is where I should have learned this. In college I was probably a weird misogynist. I mean. Not really but I just thought women should have big asses and I don't even know. I did not date in college. I would rather play Diablo II or Warcraft III. I remember there was this girl from high school who told me she liked me in high school and basically made it possible to go hook up. I messed that up. That was my dating in college. I would run into girls I knew and have positive interactions but then just never follow up or go on dates. Then poker hit. I got all into the pick up artist bullshit at the time. I was all about "one night lays with dimes." I guess that was an adventure. I finally fucked a beautiful woman from a club. I remember feeling empty, anxiety that she is still in my bed. The scent of her hair on the pillow and watching her put on her black panties still stick with me to this day as blissful but it was kind of like existential crisis that anonymous same night lays aren't the holy grail of life. Why did I not want to date? Why always anonymous? To this day I get weary if the girl is too close. Never shit where you eat. I EAT EVERYWHERE!

I remember I finally asked this one girl out on a date I was real into. Man, she was sexy. Her reply, "No, I have to work tomorrow." Which it was in the morning on a business day. I just kind of nodded my head and walked out. No further questioning just nodded my head and walked out. I am weird.

I could write more but nah.

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It is one of those moments in which I am called to write. So I do. I am officially moved in to my new location in Charleston, SC to a house full of boxes as of Tuesday. These boxes have been a travel through time. I find myself listening to a playlist from 2014 as I went more and more psychotic and alcoholic. Man, that was a rough time. I am giving away gaudy sweatshirts I was thrilled with and buying in succession in a time of hyper mania. Sometimes I am reminded that I have a serious mental illness. So, I do not have a doctor or a therapist and I have not really been going to many meetings down here. I think my only way out of suffering is to take on more responsibility. That is calling up on Medicaid, that is opening up a bank account so that my parents can pay my bills so that I can one day pay my bills. I am back in that zone. I think those 2 things get accomplished and a driver's license it is really time to just get back on the job hunt and actually all of this should be happening at the same time. It's like I am waiting to get all my AA meeting and fellowship all in line and it is just not going to happen on any short of a timeline. I much prefer walks on the beach and really it seems like anything at this point to AA meetings. That is not entirely true but it sucks not having any friends near by. Like I said in another thread though, I get to cleaning up these boxes and putting things in order and the suffering goes a way. I am overcoming the burdens of being! I get an occupation and the fragility of life seems a little less severe. I help someone at an AA meeting and the pangs of pain I may have felt an hour prior have dissipated. Maybe I am just happy on a limited amount of responsibility. To get my own place and to be in a romantic relationship takes new levels of responsibility. I think most would say it is fruitful. That is certainly one of my aims in life. It keeps coming back to me that my main aim in life is to help the suffering. The first occupations that pop out for that are therapist, monk, priest. It is like I want to go right to it. Fuck being a chef. Why do I want to help the middle class with there foodie bullshit gluttony? Why would I want to help multinational corporations with their share price? Ugh. I write this blog like every 3 months. My conscience is screaming at me to search for some jobs. Indeed.com here I come. Mother fucker I would rather write about burning the world to the ground or jumping off bridges!

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Being and nothingness. Existence is absurd. What is the antidote? Art. Beauty. Transcendence.

But creating art is similar to helping the suffering. Beauty is grace. Transendence feels like bliss, liberation, nirvana. What is the big deal if I get it through playing the guitar or fucking a delightful lady meat vessel (with a delightful mind duh) or meditating for some time? Nirvana is a bit too strong of a word. It has too many karma and rebirth connotations. Transcendence, bliss, liberation. Forgetting one's self. The absence of suffering. That is what it is all about. There will be dissatisfaction. Existence is absurd remember? Absurdities abound at every corner. They say to be grateful for the absurdity that is existence. To be thankful for consciousness. I am grateful for ice cream when I am eating it maybe. Maybe I don't want to be grateful for existence. What if I rather be dissatisfied? I can go outside and paint a garden and forget all about that kind of bullshit. I can feed a homeless man. I can share my experiences with a drunk. I can watch a waterfall. Flirt with a beautiful woman. We are poisoned with the absurd and with suffering. Antidotes are needed. Some never get them. If you pray please pray for them.

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Yeah, I am back. Writing blogs is what I do for now. This one I am just going to brag about living on the beach. I have about 20 min. until I get some homemade french toast and then head off to the beach so this is how I choose to pass the time. I don't know that may be the bragging for the blog. I really just one to point out some thoughts and observations.

Nothing quite like a fresh bagel and flavored cream cheese from a bagel shop that knows what it's doing. The same can be said for homemade strawberry shortcake with plenty of whip cream. Both with a nice cup of strong coffee. I know it would get old after a while but in the moment that is fucking on point.

There is something sexy about a woman carrying a surfboard.

Oh yeah, meat vessels. We are all just meat vessels for the consciousness. That woman inside of a sexy meat vessel attracts me but any time spent on the beach it is quickly realized that advertising is not realistic. Why are we all so worried about looking like outliers? I fall into this too. Since I am not that active and overeat I am at say like 15% body fat. So, not bad but if I really wanted to physically attract a women I would just have to have my own personal style that she is intrigued by and honestly if I got more tattoos. Sun glasses help. Of course it gets down to why don't I have the tattoos I want and it gets back to money and job again and I won't get into that.

We are all just meat vessels though. Think about anyone with the skin and the fat peeled off. That would not be very attractive but that is what we are. I guess what do we find physically attractive in males. Symmetry, height, broad shoulders, narrow waist, strong facial features but probably more important is the social stuff, the status stuff, the money stuff. The former can be conducive to the ladder. I think it is always important to be a bit different though. A purple cow. Well, not always important but it kind of goes with living an authentic life. I am not going to wear the uniform. I am going to wear my own uniform and actually to be honest I am likely not awesome enough to avoid wearing someone else's uniform but I don't have to on my time. I don't have to shop at middle America inc. but I am actually wearing some Tommy Bahama linen shorts right now that are fucking great. I am sure I am still conditioned. We are all conditioned. Fuck it. Who cares. I want to just start wearing baggy linen basketball shorts and baggy linen t-shirts. Just make my own shit.

But fuck you all. It is time for some fucking french toast. I was going to talk about how these days I love playing spades or euchre because I never play poker anymore. I am also interested in bridge. Joining a bridge club would probably be a lot of fun even if I am just playing with 60 year old ladies. I could always get some river boat gambling in but the rake is always silly on those things.

I say fuck off out of love. I wish everyone here happiness and the absence of suffering. It's not going to happen but I still wish it. Minimal dissatisfaction and defiled emotions. That's possible. I wish you all minimal dissatisfaction and defiled emotions.

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Comfort. I don't have to strive for a skilled blowjob while listening to BJork on excellent speakers so high I think I might die but then the comedown is full of gratitude and magic and an extremely powerful orgasm. That is pleasure. That is euphoria. That is samsara. A brilliant Tibetan word which basically means trapped in habitual patterns. One of the biggest patterns for me today is the comfort in the morning of rolling over and pulling the covers tight and enjoying some more sleep. I don't really have any place to be but it is a seductive pattern I don't really need in my life. I don't need to be sleeping 10, 12, 14 hours in a night.

I will say meditation is not one of these comforts. I am still trying to figure out the value in it. I have heard of a lot. It does not come easy. It seems like once I start seeing the thoughts arise it gets better. When I can really cover my breath, sensations, sounds with my awareness is when it gets to a good place. Fuck it, I rather eat a bunch of cereal, fill myself up with coffee, mindlessly scroll through some facebook, and come here. These blogs are definitely a comfort to me. If I really want to get serious about writing some stories these blogs are a complete waste of time but that is not necessarily what I want to be doing. I want to be shitting around in these blogs getting my thoughts out. Many times it is shit but many times I learn something.

I miss people. I was comfortable in Pittsburgh. It is good to get out of one's comfort zone but it can be difficult. Things here in Charleston have been not exactly what I expected. Not even really in a bad or a good way it has just been the way it is and certainly not ways that I was expecting. At the end of the day there is always posting on LP, reading, going to the beach, getting some good eats somewhere in the city, and exploring meetings. It might take me a bit longer than I may of thought getting situated in the meetings. It definitely is taking me longer than I thought to get medical insurance and set up with a psychiatrist and a therapist. It will likely take longer than I would like to get a job as well. Se la vie.

I guess I do post a lot of blogs. I guess it ends up being kind of like therapy. I just realized that now. I didn't intend it to be that way. I really just like this idea of comfort. Many comforts are bad for us. Alcohol is bad for me. Marijuana is bad for me. Huddling against the covers is bad for me. Although all of them feel great in the moment. If I didn't have to move from Pittsburgh. Why would I move? I was comfortable there. Great friends, great city but I DID move from Pittsburgh. I am not comfortable here yet, I don't have any meetings I feel comfortable in, I don't have any friends except my mom and dad. It is just one of those times of change and uncertainty. I have to be open minded and flexible. I quickly got angry that they have no diners open late before actually researching. The same with Buddhist teachers.

Oh well, I have my sister and brother in law coming this weekend. That should open things up a bit. Boredom. Boredom is one of the opposites of comfort. That is where I grasp at comfort whenever I can find it. That is when the mindless facebook scrolls start, perhaps more blogs or postings arise, and it is best to get some reading in. So, I will stop writing for now and get some reading in. I don't even know if I got through at all what I was trying to get through. Even as much as a Lazy Boy chair. It is comfortable short term but may lead to problems later where as sitting on the floor is relatively uncomfortable at first but the healthy way to go. If I am smoking cigarettes that first cigarette of the day is beautiful but I just reinstated a terrible habit. What comforts should we keep and what comforts should we fight to break free of?

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