sup

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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I dreamt last night that I murdered people and then masturbated and jizzed on them and their tv. I don't remember killing them I just remember their dead bodies and vaguely remember dragging them inside of a house. It may have not been their house or tv. I also dreamed that I borrowed a friend's car, lost control of the car, and ran someone over in front of a crowd. My dad listened to 11 hours of the NFL draft yesterday. That is crazy to me. I do resent the people drafted. Making millions of dollars to be aggressive gorillas. I killed a palmetto bug last night with fervor and aggression. In a way I think I liked it. In a way it killed a part of my soul. I almost lost control of my car yesterday going 90 through the mountains, talking on the phone, with one hand on the wheel. I fear hitting people with my car. I fear car accidents. I fear loss of limbs. I fear loss of brain function. I am actually a little afraid of palmetto bugs. I am afraid of them crawling over me when I sleep. I am afraid of picking one up and trapping it in my hands. I am afraid of it crawling into my mouth. Brazilian jiu-jitsu was a great outlet for aggression. When I take someone's back and sink in an RNC and they tap that means I could have killed them if I wanted to. BJJ. It really is a great game. I miss strategy games. What is the best strategy game on the market these days?

I will write it again:

What is the best strategy game on the market these days?

Not that I want to get lost in strategy games when I should be meeting people in a new city. I need a new job, new friends, new home group, new doctors, new therapist, new bank, new driver's license, new hang out spots, new everything. It is not the time to be getting lost in strategy or fantasy. Not the time for escape. Which in a way just makes me want to escape.

Facebook is kind of shitty. I am no longer liking ANYTHING. No like or dislike. Maybe I will comment. Maybe. I just want something real man. What does that even mean? Fuck facebook but I won't leave it. It will just continue to cause some dissatisfaction. It is one of those short term comfort type of things. Junk food. Crack cocaine. Do I have any likes? Do I have any likes? I DO!!! I DO!!! nom nom nom nom nom nom nom. Get the fuck out of here facebook!

Waffle House. Pecan Waffle. Load it up with butter and syrup and a side of coffee. Enjoy! Bon Appetit!

I want some more coffee so ciao tios.

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It is great to just be out with people. Grabbing some pizza pies down at the pizzaria with the magic pies. Great crust, magical sauce. How do they make that sauce? It's so sweet. Maybe they put in some honey. It's a family recipe for the ages. I wanted to talk to a guy about Buddhism but ended up at a picnic table with some great people long into the night. It makes up for a mixed up day. No errands done but that is ok. Manana. I suppose I don't even want to talk about Buddhism anymore but here goes:

Don't read if you don't want to talk about Buddhism (unless you just want to talk about life and living that's cool):

So, there is always going to be suffering. Even if I am a buddhist monk I will suffer. I can eat a modest breakfast and meditate and help people all day but there will still be suffering. Suffering for me today means finishing some coffee, bored with the interwebz and 3+ hours until a meeting. What do I read? What do I do? Actually, a better example is RIGHT NOW. NOW. NOW. I get home from a great night with some great people and don't feel like going to sleep. What do I do NOW? NOW? NOW? I write some stuff and put NOW in all caps. The other idea is the idea of attachment. I will say 2 attachments that come to mind is a.) I would... actually there are a lot. I want to live. I want to wake up tomorrow. I want my limbs. I want my senses. I want my own apartment. I want to meet a compatible women and fall in love. How do we deal with these attachments in relation to suffering?
It just seems like every time I start getting into buddhism I decide I have to become a buddhist monk to achieve a desirable state. I need it to get the right dosage of happiness, peace, serenity, unsuffering. On the other hand just getting out and socializing with awesome people seems to be a great dosage of living. Dating and seeing where that goes is a great dosage of living. I want to fuck and I want some stuff but I don't want that running my life. That is pretty much what it boils down to. I want to fuck and I want some stuff but I don't want that running my life.

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My final two weeks is up at the seafood market and I am finished there. It was a strange season. Strange hours. I mostly read diet and nutrition books, Camus, watched "Parts Unknown with Anthony Bourdain" and HBO's "Girls." Now I am back with an 8 hour void. Perhaps a somewhat daunting void. I should be able to find ways to fill it. I have almost two weeks until I move to Charleston, SC. I am still in a state of unsureness in what I want to do with my life. Maybe you all can help. I need all the help I can get. I have a History degree. I have a poker and sales background. I do not think I meld well with coding and the like. It does not come easy to me and I have just never had the willingness to get into it. I do not particularly like multi-national corporation culture or maybe I was just not with the best fit company in my past. Academia intrigues me but it is a lot of money and a lot of work and I did not particularly like academia in the field of History or in general. Many times I just figure I will be a therapist or a nurse. I have thought about teaching but I do not know about that. Am I missing anything? What are you all doing? I am sick of being stuck in the mud of all this stuff and stuck in the mud of poverty. I need some ideas. I need some discussion. I need some help.

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