More Posts from Mistahsojourner and Others
Checking in
I’m checking in cuz I got nothing better to do. It’s Friday night and I got nowhere to go and no one to see. I’m down here in the room I rent. I’m down here in the only sanctuary I got from the outside world. It’s pretty bare and it’s got nearly everything I own in it. I’m very well aware of the fact that the world could be fucking me in the ass a lot harder than it currently is. I’m thankful that it isn’t fucking me all that hard.
I’m the office’s computer guy and I live in mortal fear of the technical issue that will make me just fucking quit. I’m okay at computers. I don’t live for ‘em. I think I’ve said before that this computer thing is the only skill I’ve managed to figure out how to monetize.
I live with strangers. I see one of my roommates nearly every day. It’s usually right when I walk in the door. He’s a young guy in his late 20s. He wears a beard. He’s an auto technician. He’s a fan of the Houston Astros. He always says hi to me. He’s okay.
Survived a stressful period. Shit felt like the Odyssey but that’s bullshit. It was terrifying but it wasn’t all that interesting. It’s one of those mundane things that fucking terrifies you.
I’m just writing. I’m not trying to make anything pretty. Just felt the need or maybe I tell myself I feel the need so I can feel fucking special. I’m not special. Some day I’m going to be okay with that or maybe I fucking won’t.
My diet has been so incredibly shitty my entire life that I’m genuinely shocked that I’m still alive.
I barely know how to wipe my own ass.
Do I pat myself on the back for making the effort?
My attention span is piss poor. I wish it wasn’t.
Fucking porn bots like and follow me. That shit is depressing. Porn bots are sad. You think, a kindred spirit but no it’s “Veronica” wanting to introduce you to all her kinky friends.
So yeah. I’m 36 years old and I left my parent’s house for the 2nd time. It ain’t paradise but I feel just fine about it. No Trump propaganda to try not to hear. That makes a world of difference. That shit is poison for the soul.
That’s all I got.
Stuff that’s hard to take
The suburbs and what came from them
the fact the world was made before I had any say in it
the truth
especially when I know it’s bullshit and I can’t get a refund on it
when my words are bullshit
when I don’t feel ‘em
when I phone this shit in
and when just having written just ain’t enough
the stuff I can’t catch with my syllables
but I want or need to catch
See, that’s all this is.
What you’re watching (if you’re still watching, who has time?) is me trying to do that
Wondering if it’s too early to leave the office
Sunday afternoons
Friday reflection
I re-read my story of the fight with the printer.
I dig how soaked in style it is. I dig the voice. Even though it was a really mundane incident, I like how inspired it felt. Of course, I don’t really know how it reads to anyone else. You might read that and think, “God. What the fuck is wrong with that guy? Really?”
It also occurs to me my tendency to freak the fuck out about pretty much any motherfucking thing. Let me tell you, It’s not an easy thing to live with. It’s a bitch from hell. I don’t want to sound like I’m martyring myself but what you read there, while the dramatic flair is turned up a few notches, is a fairly accurate portrayal of what my internal world can be like. If it were possible, I’d love to visit someone else’s internal world and see what it’s like for them. What is their internal monologue like? How do they speak to themselves?
I tend to be pretty harsh.
“C’mon, you dumb motherfucker. Think.”
As you can imagine, that doesn’t do me any favors. I’ve been to therapists here and there. They always bring up self-talk and all that. Be nice to yourself. I never really got good at that. I’m so far into the way I do things mentally that I can’t even imagine what doing it different would look like.
There is a desire in me to do something other than these navel gazing sessions but I have no idea what that is.
This whole thing seems a bit adolescent. There is a bit of an eye wink at that with doing this thing (whatever it is) on Tumblr. I occasionally joked with people about how, “I’m totally gonna post on Tumblr about this later. Well, here I am. Maybe what I’m going to end up with is a chronicle of me maturing. Maybe I’ll just become more self-aware. Maybe I’ll end up a threat to the system.
Heh. I’m just messing with you. Smile, okay? Fist bump me. C’mon. It’s cool. I’m just messing with you. I was going to go really far with that sudden shift in tone there, like maybe start talking about an angry manifesto or something but I don’t want to freak anybody out. I don’t know how this is really reading. I’m honestly am joking though.
I’m not funny. I can make people laugh sometimes but I don’t know how you really do that. I don’t know if anybody who can really knows how it works. Imagine understanding that at a deep level. I wonder what it’s like to understand anything at a deep level. Mostly I just have a vague idea about a few things but I could be nobody’s guru.
I was browsing Netflix. Instead of watching something, I’m writing this. There really isn’t a damn thing I need to be watching.
This is a man thinking. Have some respect. Wish him luck.
I could say this is a man shadow boxing but that’s bullshit because I’m not a boxer. That’s me appealing to something manly because I’m not the bad ass warrior even someone like me thinks they are supposed to be. I’ve taken a punch without crying though. I can take a lot of abuse. See, I’m doing it. Damn. So fucking dumb, right? Shit. I’m smarter than this. I’m wiser than this.
I was sober when I started writing this and now I’m not. Go back and re-read this. When do you think I started feeling it? If you really went back up and tried to re-read that, thank you. That’s really god damn cool of you to play along.
Alright. Get ready for some next level shit. You ready? Fuck. Got nothing. I thought of how to proceed there but just came up empty. I thought of several things but none of it felt too natural or clever to me.
How the fuck is this going to read to me tomorrow?
WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?
Do you know what the fuck I’m doing?
Confusing the reader. Wink and pantomimed finger gun thing.
I could see this being really dumb and maybe irritating. I could see this being a serious waste of time.
Peace. Drive safe.
I don't think anybody but spam bots be following me but...
If you're real. Let me know.
I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in.
I wish that line was mine.
Thing is though. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t.
Sometimes I wanna scream
cuz I’m wise to the game.
I know the game is rigged
but I ain’t wise to all the ways the game got put in me
without my consent.
I catch myself playin’.
Hate myself for the size of my wages
and the fact that my words ain’t commercial
won’t pay my bills
won’t free me from dreadin’ the first day of the week
and from feelin’ all Shawshank on the last day of it.
Tucker “Heil Trump” Carlson
I woke up irritable and thinking of Tucker Carlson’s stupid fucking face. It’s the weekend. It’s god damn lamentable that my thoughts are dominated by that soulless motherfucker.
I struggle. I chase my nickels and my dimes. Dolly Parton sang that workin’ 9 to 5 was a hell of a way to make a living. It is. You do what need to and then in the background, you got Tucker Carlson corrupting the minds of your parents and your grandparents with hatred for The Other, immigrants from Mexico and elsewhere in Latin America.
I loath Tucker Carlson. I would not mind him undergoing some kind of Damascene conversion. That would possibly be a beautiful thing but real life isn’t a movie. Real life is messier and sadder and dumber. I doubt he has it in him. Barring some kind of Damscene moment where he comes to see the strangers in our land as not strangers but brothers and sisters, I would love to see Tucker Carlson and others like him hit with urine filled balloons everywhere that they go.
The Tuck is on my mind because I saw a clip of him last night where he basically called undocumented immigrants trash. It’s not surprising. The man does possesses a seriously kinked social conscience but it’s chilling. It’s clear to me that what we’re seeing is an insidious campaign of de-humanization aimed at undocumented immigrants.
I’ve said it before but it’s hard for me to shake. We all live our lives. We deal with all the insignificant bullshit that comes with that but in the background, the way is being paved for horrifying crimes against humanity. We shouldn’t kid ourselves. The crimes are already in progress.
I’m no expert on the infamous Rwandan genocide but I’m reminded of the fact that Rwandan media executives were convicted of inciting genocide. See, the poison that was being put out over the airwaves primed the population to grab machetes and go out killing.
Do I think that we might see vigilante mobs going out to kill Latinos? We’re about one Fox & Friends segment away from something like The Purge. Okay. Yeah. Maybe I’m completely wrong about that but you can’t just write people like Carlson off as harmless clowns. We do that at our peril.
This track always goes right to my heart for some reason.
“The borders should be illegal instead of the people / That were here before the Bible and all of its sequels.”
Been kind of a brutal weekend for me.
Didn’t know that I was going to be dealing with a sick dog. All of that wrecked me. Think I got my cry quota done for the next week.
I’m exhausted. I feel beat up.
I’d take a hug or two.
That dog is hanging in though. She is this adorable thing but god damn, she’s tough.
I think I’m way too up in my feelings right now.
I’ll get back to you.
Brain feels kinda smooth today. It always feels like it’s not quite firing on all cylinders on a Monday.
Fuck Mondays.
Yeah. I said “Fuck Mondays” but I don’t really feel it that viscerally at the moment. Nothing much happened really. Just dealt with minor problems here and there that I was able to fix fairly quickly. I got to spend my idle time at my desk listening to podcasts and reading. I’m about halfway through the book The Great Divide by Matt Taibbi. Maybe I can finish it by the end of the week. Been awhile since I actually finished a book.
I’m flirting with the idea of cutting back on my gaming, specifically Rocket League. I’ve played Rocket League pretty much every single day since I got it some time last year. It’s a fun game but I think it distracts me too much. Yeah. You are reading about a 35 year old man talking about his need not to game so much. I find myself firing up Rocket League even when I don’t really have a desire to play that much. I guess it fills up time when I have absolutely nothing else that I could be doing. It stimulates my brain when I ain’t got shit else to stimulate it. I guess I want to see what happens if I try stimulating it with something else.
I put in a call to a therapist I saw some time last year. He hasn’t called me back yet.
This navel gazing is getting old to me. I want to be writing about something else but I have no idea what.
I’m fucking bored.
I suppose I’m bound to catch a feeling about something this week.
I am half-assing right now and not even lying about it. I am phoning this in. I don’t give a shit.
Sup with you? You good? Did you daydream about sex or murder today? Did you fantasize about being some sorta hero? Did you cry today? Did you do anything to advance a criminal conspiracy today?
This is a man throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks. This is a man sitting cross-legged in a chair and trying to think.
This feels like a fuckin’ homework assignment.
I don’t feel much of anything right now.
I just am. I guess that’s okay. I mean, what’s the alternative?
Been working almost 6 months. I have not held down a job for more than 6 months since 2012. If I make it beyond 6 months and I’m still employed, do I fucking win something? I’ve been thinking about that. What does that mean for me, if anything?
Fuck. I tried.
This song. So god damn much. My god.
